Hints and Whispers
by L Moonshade
Summary: COMPLETED! In the middle of a murder mystery, the agents run into an old friend of Mulder's, someone he doesn't know well at all. Please r+r
1. Prologue

DISTRIBUTION/FEEDBACK: Please, oh please, oh please.  l_moonshade@hotmail.com  
RATING: PG for minor nudity/sexual situation  
 DISCLAIMER: I don't own Mulder, Scully, or the Lone Gunmen.  I'm just borrowing them, I won't hurt them, honest.  Everything else is mine.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to my long-suffering hubby for helping me over the 6—yes, 6—years it took me to write this.

DOWNTOWN DENVER, CO

FRIDAY 10:00 P.M.

Vincent Crown left the nightclub, Darkwings, followed by the glares of those still waiting to get in.  He smiled, enjoying the notoriety of being the only da'hu—as Shade put it—to hold a membership to the elite club.

He paused, taking in the beautiful night.  The Denver Pavilions open-air mall was hopping, as always, especially on a comfortable summer evening.  Off to the west, the mountains were a dark, jagged line, silhouetted by the last remaining light from the setting sun.

Vincent checked his watch and his smile fell; it was ten o'clock, with more than an hour to the hotel, more if traffic was heavy.  Plus, he had a meeting with Stefan, which would probably take an hour or two.  Vincent knew what Stefan wanted and was happy to help, but once they were finished hashing out the details, it would be anywhere between twelve and two in the morning before he was done with business, and too late to do any work for Shade.  Vincent got into his loaner car and started the engine, then put the top down.  On a clear, warm night like this, it would be a crime not to.

"Red!"

Vincent sighed and put the car into park.  "Shade, I've got to get to Estes…"

"Stefan just called.  He and Bobby were out for a walk and spotted someone.  A MIB, from their description."

"What's that have to do with me?"

"He may be after Stefan, but he could be after you."

"Why me?"

"It's no secret you and I are…close, and not all Men in Black belong to the Syndicate.  Whoever this one works for may see you as a way to get to me."

"Shit, Fe, you don't have any enemies."

"I have more than you know.  Just be careful."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you cared."

"I do care, Vincent."  She broke into a mischievous smile.  "After all.  How many cases would I really solve without your help?"

Vincent angrily slammed the car into gear and whipped out of the parking spot, trusting in Shade's exceptional reflexes to get her out of harm's way.  He shifted into drive and squealed onto the road.

He managed to keep himself in check through the city, but once he was on the freeway he sped up and turned on the c.d. player, cranking up the volume.  Twenty to twenty-five miles above the speed limit was excessive, even for him, but he was angry.  Not at the situation, he knew he'd never get Shade's heart.  Only one man had that honor, and Vincent knew it would never be him.  But he also knew he was one of only a handful of people she actually cared about.  All he wanted was for her to admit it, just once, without the humor to cover her true feelings.

He slowed down—though only slightly—and sighed, thinking about what she'd told him about the Fed she had met five years ago.  It hadn't been much, not even a name, but Vincent knew her well enough to read the signs.  She felt very deeply about this man, though Vincent doubted that she was quite aware of how much.

Vincent sighed again and pushed the thoughts away.  He couldn't change her, and probably wouldn't want to, even if he could, so he may as well forget it.  He turned his mind to the upcoming meeting with Stefan, who had been talking about opening up two more Darkwings, in Washington DC and New York.  Both cities were hotbeds of activity among the community the clubs catered to; even Vincent knew that, though, it didn't really matter.  Vincent hadn't kept his fortune by relying on faulty instincts, his or anyone else's, and when it came to locations for the club, Stefan's judgments were dead on.

"You'll see him in your nightmares, you'll see him in your dreams."

The song finally cut through Vincent's thoughts and he turned the music up, pushing the car faster.  He was a more than capable driver and the car was one of Shade's, a good machine suited to speeds worthy of the Autobahn.  Vincent relaxed, enjoying the clear night and full moon.

"He'll appear out of nowhere, but he ain't what he seems."

In the rearview mirror, Vincent could see a car emerge onto the road, a flashing blue light on the dash.  He sighed, slowing his car and pulling over.  There wasn't any doubt they were after him; he'd been passing people for miles.  He stopped the car and put his hands on the top of the wheel.

"You'll see him in your head, on the TV screen, hey Buddy, I'm warnin' you to turn it off…"

The music played, still ear-shatteringly loud.  Etiquette demanded that he turn the radio down, but he was pissed, at Shade, at his inability to get any real work done, at getting caught, and to Hell with the niceties of being pulled over.

"…'Cause he's a god, he's a ghost, he's a man, he's a guru."

A hand reached in front of Vincent and turned the music down.  Vincent turned to see two men he didn't know, one with facial scars that looked strangely like the claw marks of some large animal.  The other one, the one who had turned down the radio, was an older, once corpulent man, with graying brown hair and a hand colored by a lit cigarette.  Vincent paled.  He didn't know this person, but Shade had told him about the man who smoked Morley cigarettes.

"You're one microscopic punk in my catastrophic plan," the man said in time to the words of the song, designed and directed by my Red Right Hand."

ARCATE MEDICAL CENTER, DENVER, CO

MONDAY, 10:00 P.M.

Jay Hawthorne walked briskly through the underground parking lot.  He'd been kept in surgery, had almost lost the patient, and was late for dinner.  He glanced at his watch and sighed, finding that he was very late for dinner.  Adam would understand, but he wouldn't be happy.  They'd met through Jay's sister and had been together ever since, for more years than Jay liked to count.  It was tough, between his medical career and Adam's as a homicide detective, but it was worth it.

Jay's thoughts turned to his sister.  She was wild, acting more like a teenager than the sixty-year-old woman she was.  He heaved a sigh.  He had aged slowly, only looking thirty himself, but she hadn't aged at all.  They'd never had the legendary rapport of other twins, but they'd been close.  Now, as the years touched him but passed her by, he felt like they were growing farther and farther apart.

Jay was brought out of his reverie by the sound of a shoe on concrete.  He was the only one leaving, the next shift wasn't due yet, and security drove, so who else would be here?  He listened, heard someone breathing, shrugged and continued to his car.  He listened as the person approached, pretended not to hear, until he had gotten the car door and the person spoke.

"Johnny Hewson?"

He frowned.  Only Sel called him "Johnny" anymore, and Hewson was a name he'd left far behind.  He turned to face a man dressed in a black suit, young, unremarkable but for the four angry scars running down the right side of his face.  _I could fix that,_ Jay thought, before he saw that the man wore them like a badge of honor.

"Once I was, yes," Jay said.  "Why?"

"Just wanted to make sure I had the right person," the man said, and then fired a gun.

Jay was hit with a dart.  He ripped it out of his shoulder with a snarl, and then started to laugh.

"You're a fool," he growled, his long, pointed incisors glinting in the light.  "Tranquilizers don't work on us, or didn't you know that?"

The man smiled grimly.  "Not tranqs."

Jay felt a sudden burning throughout his body and realized his mistake.  Even though he had never felt anything like it before, some instinct told him what it was.  "Holy water," he croaked, sinking to the floor.

Through fading vision, he saw another Man in Black approach.  This one was older, flesh hanging from a once large frame, a cigarette in one hand.

"Diluted," he said, though Jay could barely hear him through the ringing in his ears.  "It won't kill you, but it will knock you out for a while."

Jay tried one last time to get away, struggling to his knees before collapsing, this time unconscious.

The old man stood over Jay and dropped the cigarette.  "She'll come after this one," he said, crushing the butt underfoot.  "Both of them.  But, most especially, this one."


	2. Chapter 1

DENVER, CO

TUESDAY, 1:00 A.M.

Detective Mike McCarthy, Denver Homicide, was just coming home from another investigation.  This one was the PI's brother, taken last night.  McCarthy stepped into his apartment and turned on the light.  Someone was there, sitting in McCarthy's favorite chair, a drink in his hand, acting for all the world as if he owned the place, or at least the occupant.  McCarthy slowly shut the door.  He knew his visitor, they both worked for the same man, and McCarthy didn't like him at all.

"What do _you_ want?"

"The cigarettes?"

"They're gone," McCarthy said sharply.  "Flushed at or near the scenes."  He started pacing around the room, his eyes going to the door.  His apartment had suddenly gotten smaller and he wanted nothing more than to get away before it crushed him.

"How many?"

"Eight.  Five abduction scenes, three dump sites."

"You called in help?"

"Special Agents Mulder and Scully, just as our employer instructed.  Why them?"  McCarthy went over and opened the window to let in the cool night air; it had suddenly gotten quite warm.

"Because they are the only ones who can get to the bottom of this."

McCarthy laughed harshly.  "After what he's done to them, will they want to?"

The visitor smiled.  "Maintain your delusion of who really did it—and make sure Mulder knows you suspect Her—and they'll solve this case.  Give it to them, and then let it go.  Stay out of it."

"Your orders or his?"

"His."

McCarthy kept pacing, twisting the ring on his finger.  "I don't like this."

"I know.  You want to nail Her.  Well, it won't happen this time, so just do what you're told."

"Don't I always?"

"Not when it comes to Her, you don't.  Don't step out of bounds, or our employer goes down.  And if that happens, you _will _follow."

DPD, HOMICIDE DIVISION, DENVER, CO

TUESDAY 10:45A.M

Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully made their way through the department.  It was a madhouse, with no one moving slower than a very fast walk.  Someone else bumped into Mulder and he sighed, wishing he were back in his office at FBI headquarters in DC.  He may have a very small basement office, but few people bothered him, though that could be because of his reputation.  Neither his mood nor his partner's was made any better by the fact that they'd come halfway across the country without being briefed on the case.  They worked the X-Files, those cases the Bureau didn't want to admit existed, crimes that dealt with things no one else wanted to touch.  Mulder didn't like cases that didn't peak his interest, weren't truly unusual.  In this instance, however, he'd had no choice.  He wasn't happy about it.

"Agent Mulder?  Agent Scully?"

They turned to see a man approaching.  He held out his hand, smiling, though it wasn't reflected in his icy blue eyes.  "I'm Mike McCarthy, primary on this case.  Thanks for coming."

Scully regarded him coolly.  "We don't usually come all this way for a case we know nothing about."

"I know it's not standard procedure. Come into my office and I'll explain."

They followed him into an office the size of a large closet.  Behind the desk was a window that showed the sunny day and the Colorado Rockies.  Mulder took a moment to appreciate the view before dropping back into a foul mood.

McCarthy sat behind the desk and unlocked a drawer.  "Have a seat, please."  The agents sat down as McCarthy pulled out a file and started in.

"First, the hush-hush.  We do have a person of interest, a local PI with contacts up the wazoo and a brother-in-law who's a detective in the department, so we're keeping a tight lid on it.  Now, for the case.  Three people were abducted, exsanguinated, beheaded, and then dumped at the Denver Zoo, all near one of the cat exhibits."  He suppressed a shudder.  "All of them were missing for a week.  First victim was Chris Johnson, twenty-eight, Caucasian male.  Second was Tanya Sumner, eighteen, African-American female.  Last was Bob Two-Feathers, forty-five, Native American male.  The only connection we can find is that they were all former clients of our PI.  And now, two more people are gone.  A playboy who was out here visiting her, taken Friday night, and her older brother, taken last night."  McCarthy pushed the file across the desk.

Mulder took and opened it.  "If her brother's gone, it's probably not her."

"With Her Lordship, anything's possible."

Mulder's head shot up.  "'Her Lordship'?"

"The PI.  Lord Moonshade."

Scully frowned.  "'Lord Moonshade'?  What's her real name?"

McCarthy looked at her blankly.  "What do you mean?"

"What does it say on her license?"

"Lord Moonshade.  Madonna only needs one name, I guess Moonshade thinks it works for her.  She's actually got an English title, too, if you can believe it."

"Have you talked to her about this?" Mulder asked.

"Yes," McCarthy said, shuddering.  "No alibis for the first three, either abduction or dump nights.  No alibi for the playboy, either.  She does have an alibi for last night, though I haven't gotten a chance to verify it."

"Who's her alibi?"

McCarthy scoffed.  "The Governor, of all people.  When she lies, she lies big.  If you'll excuse me, now, I've got another case.  You're on your own with this."

McCarthy left.  Scully watched him go, then turned to Mulder.  "Do you get the feeling he doesn't like her?"

Mulder sighed.  "Shade affects some people that way."

Scully's jaw dropped.  "You know her?"

"Well enough to know she's innocent, no matter what McCarthy wants to believe."

"Mulder…"

"She's one of the smartest people I've met, and it doesn't take a genius to know how bad dead clients are for business."

"What about the newest victims?"

"I don't know about the playboy, but she didn't take her brother any more than I abducted my sister."

"I'm glad someone around here knows she's innocent."

Mulder and Scully spun in their chairs to face the speaker.  A man stood in the doorway; he now stepped into the room and shut the door.  He was well dressed in an expensive suit, but his face was pale, with dark circles under puffy eyes.  Mulder quickly shut the file, but the man shook his head.

"I don't want to see it.  I don't want to be reminded of what John's facing.  I'm Adam Hawthorne, Shade's brother-in-law."

"The detective who's not on the case."

"I'm too deeply involved, even before John was taken.  And now I don't want to know…She didn't do it, Agent Scully."

"McCarthy seems convinced she did."

"He's an unmitigated fool.  He abhors her with a passion he reserves for only one other thing.  But she wouldn't do it.  She loves John too much."

Mulder nodded.  "I know.  But I can't take the case any more than you can."

"You have to.  I can tell you something you'll never read in the report.  Whoever took Vincent left a Morley cigarette butt.  John and I found the car and showed the butt to McCarthy, as per procedure, but the thing's not in evidence.  And, from what I've heard, there's no mention of it in the report, either."

"Damn," Mulder growled.  "What did you find?"

"Vincent was on his way to the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, where he was staying, for a meeting with a mutual friend.  John and I were going up to Shade's place near the hotel for the weekend.  We started up there late—John had the late shift—and it was about eleven thirty when we saw the car.  Vincent had been using one of Shade's cars; it's quite distinctive and we recognized it right away.  A car had stopped about a dozen feet back, two men got out of the other car and went to Vincent's and back, the driver going to the trunk first.  The cigarette was on the ground, by the driver's door of Vincent's car."

Scully frowned.  "Excuse me, but who's Vincent?"

"The playboy who was here visiting Shade.  Vincent Crown."

Mulder briefly closed his eyes and cursed.  He'd met Vinny during his last two years at Oxford, just before they'd gone on to the Academy together, where they'd been roommates.  Vinny could have gone far in the Bureau, but had tanked his assignments and tests and gotten himself kicked out.  Mulder didn't understand Vinny's motives—at least, he wasn't supposed to—but he considered the man a friend in any case.

"I should go before McCarthy comes back.  He holds me guilty by association.  Oh, this is for you.  It's a copy, so don't worry about returning it."

He stepped forward and handed Scully a videotape he had in his left hand.  As he did, a glint of gold caught her eye.  It was a ring, a wedding band.  Scully took the tape and watched Hawthorne walk to the door.

"Detective Hawthorne?  We'll find him."

He bent his head.  "If you don't, I won't have anything left to live for," he said quietly, then left.

"So we're taking this case?" Mulder asked.

"If Cancer Man's involved, how can we not?"

"Even though Vinny and I roomed together at the Academy?"

Scully sighed.  "I suppose that can't be coincidence…Roomed together?  Why would a playboy join the Bureau?"

"Couldn't tell you.  He could be weird sometimes."

"No wonder you like him."

"Ha.  Ha."

They left for the hotel, Scully looking over the report in the car.  All of the victims had died of complete and total blood loss, though there were no wounds large enough to account for that, with post-mortem beheading.  All three bodies had been dumped with no prints, no fibers, no trace elements.  Nothing of use.

Scully turned to the dossier of the person of interest, Lord Moonshade, a Japanese-American girl, who was a PI with licenses for places around the US and Canada and honorary memberships to countless police departments around the world.  According to the report, she investigated the same type of cases Mulder and Scully did, she was the one they called when no one wanted any official involvement at all.  She was nothing if not discreet.  Scully looked at the number of solved cases to the girl's credit, a number that put Mulder's to shame.

"Tell me about her."

"She's from some place out east; left home at eighteen, and made her way here, where some heavy hitter set up her business.  They had a parting of the ways—I guess it was pretty bitter— but I don't know all the details."  Mulder shrugged.  "That's about it."

"Not a lot."

"The rest you wouldn't be interested in.  Favorite color, food, drink, that type of thing."

"How did you meet?"

Mulder sighed.  "That's a story in itself."

WASHINGTON, DC

AUGUST 1995, 2:00 A.M.

Fox Mulder watched as, in front of him, a car swerved across all three lanes of the freeway.  He took his foot off the gas and drifted back, not wanting to get in the middle of an accident.  Then he dug out his cell phone and dialed 911 to report his name, badge number, and location.  The drunk driver forced a car off the road and sent it rolling down an embankment and Mulder relayed that information to the operator, too, then pulled over to the side of the road.

Mulder dropped the cell phone into a pocket, jumped out of his car, and ran down to the other vehicle, horrified to see flames licking at the undercarriage.  He hauled open the driver's side door, to find a nineteen-year-old girl unconscious in the seat, the windshield spider webbed, and a large cut on the girl's forehead that was bleeding profusely.  He dragged her out and picked her up, knowing he could be doing serious damage if she had a back injury, but the flames were nearing the gas tank, and he figured she was better off paralyzed than dead.

Mulder carried her up the embankment to his car, and checked her vitals.  She was breathing and had a pulse, which was good, but both were ragged.  He looked in her pocket, next, hoping to find something that would give her name and any medical conditions, finding a Colorado driver's license (which told him that Lord Moonshade was twenty-three),  two guns and quite a few knives.  He pulled out one of the guns and looked at it, half expecting it to be a fake, but it wasn't.

The girl's eyes opened with a start and she tried to sit up when the car exploded.  He didn't have to stop her, though, as she was too weak to sit up on her own.  She watched the car burn for a moment, then turned to look at him.

"Who do I owe my life to?" she asked, eyes drifting shut.

"Mulder."

She opened her eyes again and studied him.  Her eyes were a deep twilight blue that seemed to probe his soul.  She closed her eyes once more and Mulder knew he'd been found worthy.  For some reason, he was relieved.

"Fox.  FBI, isn't it?"

Mulder nodded, remembered she couldn't see.  "Yes," he told her.  "How do you know?"

"I met your father, once.  He mentioned you, asked me to keep an eye on you.  I respected him for that.  It took some major balls."

"Why?"

"He…wronged me, once.  You've called an ambulance?"

"Yeah.  They're on their way."

"Then do me a favor.  Take my guns and knives.  They tend to end up lost whenever the EMTs have to work around them."

"How old are you?"

"What's it say on my license?"

"Twenty-three, and I don't believe it for a second.  So you're underage, and carrying illegal weapons.  What makes you think I'll take them and risk getting myself in trouble?"

Lord Moonshade opened her eyes halfway and smiled, and Mulder knew she had him.  "Because I intrigue you.  And you know that the only way to make sure you see me again is to take my weapons and make me come and get them."

He sighed and took her two guns and eighteen knives and put them in his car.  "If I get caught with these…"

"Pull out my id wallet."

Mulder did and opened it.  Inside were business cards for a PI firm called Mysterious Ways, as well as her credentials.

"Take a card from the back."

He did, then replaced her wallet.  A glance at the back of the card showed her signature.

"Show that to any cop who stops you.  But don't lose it, or give it away.  If they don't let you go, their superior somewhere up the chain of command will.  I have some pull in this town."

Mulder put the card in his own wallet, as the ambulance came pulling up.

"Who are you?"

"A Player," she whispered before the EMTs shooed him away.


	3. Chapter 2

"You took her guns?  And the knives…Mulder, that's pushing it, even for you."

"I know.  But she was right."

"I take it she found you?"

"A month later, she came to me in the middle of a case.  You were working up north and I needed help.  She gave it."

"And you became close.  How close?"

"Very."

"Can we trust her?"

"I do.  As much as I trust you."

Mulder pulled into the hotel's parking lot and went to his room, while Scully went to the front desk for a VCR.  Ten minutes later, they had it set up and running.

It was a copy of a police interview, run by McCarthy.  The subject, identified as Lord Moonshade, was a girl who looked no more than nineteen and was small, with a pantherish build.  Her face was narrow, with high cheekbones that gave her shockingly blue eyes an almond shape.  Her silver hair was wild and long; it hung over the back of the chair she sat in, brushing the floor.  She sat with her feet on the table, chair leaning back.  One arm hung down, a cigarette between two well-manicured fingers.  She watched McCarthy with a slight smile, as if enjoying the whole thing.

"She looks like she's done this before."

"It wouldn't surprise me."

Scully glanced at Mulder.  He was leaning forward in a position of intense concentration, all of it centered on Moonshade.  Scully turned her attention back to the tape, this time watching McCarthy.  After a moment, she noticed something she thought important enough to draw Mulder's focus to.

"Mulder, look at him."

"Wha..?  Who, McCarthy?"

Mulder pulled his gaze away from the girl and watched McCarthy.  The detective was pacing around the room, never standing still for more than a heartbeat.  His face was pale and drenched in sweat.  His hands shook, he played with a class ring, his breathing was quick and shallow and he never met the girl's eyes.

"Scully, he's having a panic attack."

"I know.  It looks like it's due to her, though.  Does that make any sense to you?"

"No, it doesn't," Mulder said, fidgeting with the tape's box.  Suddenly, he stopped and looked inside.  "What's this?"  He pulled out a scrap of paper, read it, then crumpled it and threw it away.

"What does it say?"

"A note from Hawthorne.  According to him, McCarthy is ailurophobic."

"In English, Mulder."

"He's severely afraid of cats."

"What does that have to do with his reaction to Moonshade?  Well, you like her.  How do you feel about cats?"

"I'd have one, if I could remember to feed it."

"We may have a pattern."

"But how and why?  She's a woman, not a cat."  He heaved a sigh and pulled out a map to study.  He sighed again.

"It's a bit of a drive to Estes Park, where Shade lives, so we'd better wait until tomorrow.  Who does that leave?"

"Chris Johnson's wife, Tonya Sumner's parents, and Bob Two-Feathers' wife.  Plus Detective Hawthorne—whom we've already talked to—Crown's ward, Michael Bradford—the security guard who found Jay Hawthorne's car—and Stefan duMort.  Mr. duMort owns a nightclub called Darkwings, where your girlfriend has her office.  Then, of course, there's the Governor, whom she named as her alibi, and Michael Avila, who found the bodies."

Mulder frowned.  "All three?"

"He's the keeper in charge of the felines and, since the bodies were all dumped in front of the tiger exhibit, he found them all.  I assume you'd also like me to talk to the medical examiner?"

"Yeah.  Vinny's ward will be in Estes, since that's where Vinny was staying.  Let's see the ME and Shade tomorrow.  If we concentrate on the witnesses and Shade's alibi, maybe we can find something to clear her.  What order do we go in?"

Scully checked the addresses against their maps.  "Looks like Johnson, Sumner, the Governor, the zoo, then Two-Feathers."

"All right.  Let's go."

Mary Johnson, a slight woman, with dark hair and swollen eyes, took a tissue from the box on the table as she sat down.

"I've already told the police everything."

"We know, Mrs. Johnson, and we're sorry," Mulder said.  "But we need to hear it from you."

"Why is the FBI involved?"

"There have been other disappearances.  Anything you can tell us may save their lives."

"There's not much to tell.  He performs magic shows for parties and such.  He had a late show; I was tired and didn't wait up for him.  When I woke up in the morning, he wasn't here, but, when  I came down, the car was in the driveway.  The door was open and there was a cigarette on the ground."

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other.  "A cigarette?  Do you know what kind?"

"I don't, no."

"It wasn't your husband's?"

"Chris doesn't…didn't smoke."

"You told the police?"

"Of course I did."

"All right.  Thank you for your time.  If you remember anything else, don't hesitate to call us."

"I won't."

They left.  Mulder checked the map, then started off for Tonya Sumner's home.

"She found a cigarette.  Ten to one says it was a Morley."

"Probably."  Scully flipped through the file.  "It doesn't say anything about it here, though."

"So who's hiding it?  The police, or McCarthy?"

"Hawthorne said he told McCarthy, so it looks like it's him.  But, McCarthy interviewed the Sumners and Mrs. Two-Feathers himself, so we can double check."

They found the Sumner home to be small, but well kept.  It was a man who opened the door.

"Mr. Sumner?  I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder, this is my partner, Dana Scully," Mulder said as they flashed their badges.  "We're investigating your daughter's murder…"

"We've already told the police everything."

"Of course, Sir.  But, it helps us to hear it from you firsthand."

"All right.  Come on in, then."

He led them through the hallway and into the living room.  There was a woman there; she stood when they came in, giving her husband a quizzical look.

"Honey?"

"FBI.  Here about Tonya."

"Why is the FBI here?"

"There were two more abductions.  We're afraid that they're connected to your daughter's murder."

"Oh, of course.  Tell them, Honey."

"She had a visitor," Mr. Sumner said.  "Said he was here from that PI she hired."

"Did he give a name?"

"No.  He was about my height, with a deep tan, blonde hair, and dark brown eyes.  No tattoos or anything that I noticed."

"Did he say why he wanted to talk to her?"

"Something about the case, I guess.  She went out onto the porch.  Fifteen minutes later, I went outside to check on her, but she was gone.  There was a cigarette on the porch, but I don't know which brand.  No, Tonya didn't smoke.  That's what that detective said, that it must have been hers."

"What was the detective's name?"

"McCarthy," Mrs. Sumner said quickly.  "I didn't like him at all.  He tried to blame it on that PI.  But, that man didn't come from her."

"How do you know?" Scully asked.

"She told Tonya that she would come with news in person.  'I don't like middlemen' were her exact words."

"Thank you for your help.  If you remember anything else, please let us know."

Once in the car, Mulder checked the map again, then pulled into traffic.  "Looks like McCarthy's hiding something."

"But what?  Could it be that he's really working for Moonshade?"

"Not according to Hawthorne, or that video.  Besides.  The cigarettes aren't hers."

"She doesn't smoke?"

"She smokes, just not brands.  She rolls her own."

Scully hid a smile.  "Are you sure it's tobacco she carries?"

"No.  But it's nothing illegal."

Twenty minutes later, they were walking into the governor's office.

"He may not be here, you know," Scully whispered, as they stepped into the office.

The secretary looked up.  "Can I help you?"

Mulder and Scully flashed their badges.  "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder, this is my partner, Dana Scully.  We'd like to talk to the Governor, if he's in."

"May I tell him what this is about?"

"We're here to verify an alibi for Lord Moonshade."

"Just a moment, please."

She disappeared through a back door, returning a moment later.

"Right through that door, Agents."

"Thank you."

The Governor stood when they entered.  "Agents.  Have a seat, please.  Let me guess, you need to verify for Monday night?  She was here from about nine to eleven-thirty that night."

"Doing what, if we may ask."

"The first half hour she was briefing me on a case she'd just finished for me.  The rest of the time she was discussing…concerns she has about my term, since she had my ear."

"Sir, can I ask you a frank question?"

"Of course, Agent Scully."

"Would you lie for her?"

"Absolutely not.  We don't really get along very well.  I wouldn't have gone to her for help, if I could have avoided it.  It feels a little like selling your soul to the devil."

"Pardon?"

"She did the case pro bono."

"Why, if you don't get along?"

The Governor laughed harshly.  "There are four kinds of people in power, Agents.  Those who have the balls to stand up to her—of which I was one—those she owns because they like her, those she owns because they're afraid of her, and those she owns because they owe her favors.  Of which I am now numbered.  Her Lordship is well aware of how the world works, how it really works, and she plays it like a violin."

Scully shook her head.  "Doesn't it bother you, Sir?  You're an elected official.  To be owned, in your own words, by one person…"

"It does, but not in the way you think.  You see, she's very careful not to ask things that put her interests in front of someone else's.  She wouldn't ask me to turn down a well written gun control law, just because it would make a favorite toy of hers illegal."

"Then what does she ask for?"

"You'll have to ask her.  If that's all, Agents?"

"One more question," Mulder said, as he and Scully stood.  "Do you like cats?"

"Can't stand them.  Why?"

"No reason.  Thank you for your time."

They returned to the car yet again.  Mulder pulled onto the road.

"She's every bit as bad as Cancer Man," Scully said.

"Maybe.  It depends on what she asks for."

"Does it?  Mulder, she's subverting the system.  She hardly ever works with the authorities and most of the suspects she finds wind up dead.  She is capable of this."

"Maybe.  But she has an alibi."

"Mulder, he admitted he's in her pocket.  He may be lying for her."

"Come on, Scully, if you can't believe a politician, who can you believe?  Objectively, she didn't do it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"If she really owns that many people…She's not the type of person to hide things.  She's not flamboyant, she doesn't advertise, but she wouldn't lie about it.  If she'd done this, she'd take the rap, explain why she had to, and be out within twenty-four hours."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Don't you?"

"I don't want to.  But I guess I do."

Scully started looking through the file again.  What were they missing, what was the connection between Moonshade and Cancer Man?  Mulder?  Scully couldn't believe that.  One connection between victims was obvious, but, was there another one?   Not if these attacks were aimed at Moonshade.

Scully looked up as the car pulled into the zoo's almost-full parking lot.  "Is it really this busy?  On a weekday?"

"Apparently."

They went to the exit, and the security guard, and flashed their badges.

"Agents.  What can I do for you?"

"We're looking for Michael Avila."

"Oh, sure."  The guard looked into the zoo, craned his neck.  "Hey, Mike!" he bellowed.

A couple of people turned, but only one came over.

"What's up, Paul?"

"Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, FBI.  Three guesses what they're about."

"And the first two don't count," Michael said, shaking their hands.  "It's too busy to discuss it here, or at the scene, but let me show you where it happened.  Then we can go behind the curtain and talk."

He led them past two sets of outdoor exhibits, all cats, then into a building.  To the left were the matching indoor exhibits.  To their right was a ramp, leading to a viewing stage, the window looking out on the tigers.

Michael brought them down the ramp to the rail that separated people from the window.  "Right here," he said, indicating the space between rail and window.

One of the tigers stood and came over to the window.

"They know we're here?"

"Oh, probably.  I mean, they've got an excellent sense of smell.  They certainly knew when…"

The tiger sat on his haunches, stared in at them.  Mulder was almost sure the tiger was staring at him.

"He likes you, Mulder," Scully chuckled.

"He?  That's a girl kitty, Agent Scully.  Come with me and we can talk."

Once in the office, Michael shut the door with a sigh.  "Bad piece of work, that.  Found 'em when I did my pre-opening walk-through.  They were dead, all right, but there was no blood, just the cigarette butts; one by each body.  The cats were going nuts.  They don't like stuff like that."

"Do you know…"

"What kind of cigs?  Naw.  Her Lordship asked me that, but not 'till the last one.  Otherwise I would've checked.  I'll tell you what I told her.  I gave 'em all to the detective, McCarthy.  Sonofabitch had the balls to tell me it was Her Lordship and the cigs proved it."  He snorted.  "Not in this lifetime."

"You sound like you know her."

Michael shrugged.  "Not so much, but enough to know she wouldn't do it.  She comes in once a month or so to see the cats.  She really cares about them.  Wouldn't do anything to upset them and dead bodies do just that."

"When you say she comes to see the cats, you mean she comes to the zoo?  Just to see the cats?"  Scully frowned.  Somehow, she couldn't picture Lord Moonshade enjoying an afternoon at the zoo.

Michael laughed.  "Her Lordship?  Hardly.  I let her in to visit the cats, after hours."  He shook his head.  "They really respond to her well.  Is there anything else, Agents?  Can I see you out?"

"No, we're fine.  Thank you for your time."

Michael watched the agents leave, then shut the door and went to the phone.  Ten numbers and two rings later he was connected.

"Yeah, it's me…I just talked to the Bureau, names of Scully and Mulder…Dana's her name, his is Fox…Yeah, I'm sure…You're welcome."  He hung up and whistled, glad he wasn't either of those agents.  His boss was not happy.  Not happy at all.

Adienne Two-Feathers sat down with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses.  "I keep lots of lemonade in the refrigerator. My boys like it.  They're taking over since Bob…"  She heaved a sigh.  "There was a storm and the horses were getting nervous.  Then the barn door started banging, so Bob went to close it.  When it didn't stop, I went out.  Bob was gone and there was a cigarette on the ground, inside the barn.  I told the detective about it.  Bob smoked, but never near the barn.  The detective, McCharon, or something, told me it was Lord Moonshade's.  She knew better than that, too.  Heck, she never went near the barn, because the horses didn't like her.  Darndest thing, too; you would have thought something was after them, the way they carried on.  She just laughed, said she must smell bad, and gave the horses wide berth.  Besides, she didn't have any reason to hurt my Bob."

"Did you pay her?"

"She insisted we not, seeing as how our flock is small and we don't make a lot of money.  Especially not with the trouble we were having, wolves taking the young.  We sent her some meat and a pelt from the slaughter and she sent us a nice thank-you note."

"Wolves?  Is that why you called her in?"

"The government didn't believe us.  Traps did no good; the wolves paid no attention to them.  We had nowhere else to go."

"Mrs. Two-Feathers, did you happen to know what kind of cigarette it was?"

"Oh, my goodness, no.  I never notice details like that.  Is it important?"

"Not really.  Can you think of anyone who would want to do this?"

She shook her head.  "No.  No one."

"Thank you for your time.  If you remember anything…"

"I'll call you, I promise."

Back in the car, Scully looked at Moonshade's record.  Who were her parents?  Where was she born?  Why was there no information about her past in her dossier?

"There's no personal history in her dossier."  She flipped to the information about Moonshade's brother.  "It's the same with Jay.  No birth date, no place of birth, no parents' names, nothing."

"Jay Hawthorne.  That's not his original last name, obviously.  Didn't Detective Hawthorne call him 'John'?"

"I think so.  Why?"

"Shade calls her brother 'Johnny'.  So we're looking at a given name of John, Johnny, or Jonathan."

"But what about surname?  Do we have any way of finding that out?"

Mulder heaved a sigh.  "I have no idea.  Let's eat and get some sleep, and worry about it tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 3

HOLIDAY INN, DENVER, CO

TUESDAY, 11:30 A.M.

Scully opened the door, to find Mulder already there, about to knock.

"I thought we were meeting in the dining room," she said, closing the door behind her.

"That was before I got a call from a representative of Mr. Stefan duMort."

"The owner of Darkwings?"

"Mmhm.  We've been invited—at Shade's request—to have lunch at the club.  She wants to talk to us."

"I'm sure she does.  I thought it was members only."

"Albon Carver says we're two of only three people who are members and don't fit the demographic, courtesy of Shade."

"All three of us?  Who's the third?"

"Vincent Crown."

"Why doesn't this surprise me?  But Mulder, she's a person of interest."

"Her alibi checks out.  We're fine."

Ten minutes later, they were at the club, at the beginning of a long line of people, and facing a huge doorman who frowned down at them.

"Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully."

The doorman scrutinized their badges, then broke into a friendly smile.

"Welcome to Darkwings, Agents.  Let the host know you're here to see Her Lordship, and he'll take you to her table."

"Thank you."

They stepped inside and paused to let their eyes to get used to the dimness.  To their right was a raised dance floor, on three sides of that was a dining area, with double-sided bars separating the two.  There were a few people on the dance floor and the tables were full with a large variety of people, businessmen, gypsies, bikers, cowboys, and people in jeans and T-shirts.

"Quite an eclectic mix."

Scully nodded.  "And look at the décor."

The club itself was colored darkly, in deep purples, midnight blues, blood reds, and, of course, black.  On the walls hung medieval paintings, weapons, armor, and tapestries.

"Think they're real?"

"Oui, M'sieur.  They are authentic, each and every one, all with amazing stories to tell.  I am Stefan duMort.  You are Special Agents Fox Mulder et Dana Scully?"

It took Mulder a moment to answer; he was busy studying Stefan.  The man was small, only about five foot four, and slim.  He wore low-cut black boots, loose-fitting black pants, and a foppish, dark blue shirt.  Ruffles cascaded down either side of the open front, more ruffles fell over long, thin fingers.  His skin was pale, his shoulder length hair was white, his lips were dark pink, and his eyes were emerald green.  All in all, Mulder thought, he looked like a porcelain doll, and a century or two out of date.

"Yes, we are," Scully said.

"It is good of you to come.  If you please, M'sieur, Ma'am'selle, follow me and I will bring you to Lord Moonshade's table."

Mulder shook his head.  Stefan's accent, as French as his name, was difficult to follow.  Stefan led them to the table in the far left corner, where they just had time to be seated before a waiter came over.

"What can Alan bring you for lunch?" Stefan asked.

"Cheeseburger and fries, Coke to drink, please."

"Very well.  And you, M'sieur?"

"Whatever Shade's having."

A smile flashed across Stefan's face.  "You had best have it made slightly more cooked than Moonshade's," he told the waiter.  "And what to drink?  Being that you are on duty, I assume alcohol is not an option?"

"No.  Chocolate shake."

"Very well."

Alan quickly moved off.  Mulder turned to Stefan.

"Why 'Darkwings'?"

Stefan smiled.  "It is from an ancient proverb that speaks of bats as 'dark wings in the night.'  Mais, ce n'est pas what you wish to speak to me about."

"You had a meeting with Crown the night he was kidnapped.  What was it about?"

"My desire to open more branches of this club.  He has extended loans to me before."

"What happened?"

"His young ward and I were walking outside the hotel.  They were staying at the Stanley Hotel, near Moonshade's home in Estes Park.  We saw a young man behind the hotel, just outside of M'sieur Crown's window.  He was a Man in Black, I believe is the term."

"How do you know that?"

"Who else would be outside, in a light rain, wearing a three-piece suit and sunglasses at ten o'clock in the evening?  As well, there is the fact that I have had some experience with them.  Ma chere has attracted…undue attention, at times."

"What did you do?" 

"I attempted to inquire as to his purpose, but he moved very swiftly and eluded me."

"You tried to confront him?  Mr. duMort, that was very dangerous."

Stefan turned to regard Scully.  "Not so much for me as you may think.  Ah, thank you, Alan."

This last was said as Alan set down Mulder and Scully's drinks and a bottle of chilled wine.

"If you will excuse me, then," Stefan said.  "I have many things to attend to.  Moonshade will join you shortly."

Scully watched him leave.  "He's quite a character."

"Doesn't surprise me."  Mulder checked the bottle of wine.  "Red wine.  Good year, too."

"Expensive, then."

"She likes the finer things in life.  I wonder how many branches of this place there are."

"A few, to hear duMort and Hawthorne talk.  And, if the others are like this, he does booming business."  Scully realized she wasn't talking over the dull roar, anymore.  "What happened?"

"Shade."

Scully followed Mulder's gaze.  Moonshade looked just like she had in the video, but was more imposing in person.  Everyone was looking at her, some with fear, some with hatred, and some with reverence, but all with respect.  She sauntered to the table, conversation beginning again slowly as she passed.

Mulder got to his feet.  Moonshade smiled warmly, reached up to hug him.

"Fox.  I'm glad you're here."

"So am I."

They held each other for a moment, then parted.

"Shade, this is my partner, Dana Scully."

Moonshade offered her hand, met Scully's gaze.  "It's nice to finally meet you, Scully.  Fox has told me a lot about you."

Scully started to answer, but was stopped cold.  Moonshade's deep blue eyes pierced her to the quick, the other woman's gaze making her feel uneasy and exposed.  Moonshade smiled and the spell was broken.  Even though she'd been found worthy—or maybe because—Scully rankled at the girl's superior attitude.

"I wish I could say the same," Scully said as they sat down.

Mulder groaned inwardly.  He knew what Scully meant.  If Shade took offense, things could get real ugly, real quick.  But, Shade laughed quietly and poured herself a glass of wine.

"So.  How did you get the case?"

"McCarthy asked for us specifically."

Moonshade frowned.  "This isn't good.  First he black holes at least four cigs…"

"Seven."

Moonshade looked at Mulder.  "Beg pardon?"

"There were cigarettes at four of the abduction sites.  We don't know about Jay's yet."

"Probably.  Hmmm.  This isn't good.  You shouldn't have gotten this case."

Scully frowned.  "Why not?"

"I sent word far and wide to keep you away.  I'm not sure it's coincidence that Red—Vincent—knows both of us.  I didn't want Fox anywhere near this."

"So who could have done this?  The two obvious suspects are you and Cancer Man."

"Yes.  But, I didn't do them, as you know by now.  And I don't know why C. G. would target me.  Not at this late date."

"You've met before?"

"Some of my constituents—what, you thought this was a false title?—were having…problems.  When I traced those problems back to the Syndicate, I met with C. G. and told him that it would be in his best interests to make sure these problems ended."

"What did he do?"

"He convinced the Syndicate to leave my Folk alone and promised not to cross me again."

Scully was shocked.  "What did you say to him?"

"It's not so much what I said, as how I said it."

Scully gasped.  Moonshade's voice had taken on an accent Scully had never heard before, one was full of growls, rolled consonants and rounded vowels.  It was also threatening and, with Moonshade's fang-like canines, made the girl seem like a predator.

"But, if you want to hear the story, I'll tell you," Moonshade said and she was just a girl again, though Scully was still aware of the predator lying just underneath.

"Let's hear it," Mulder said grimly.

"All right."

ARLINGTON CEMETERY, ARLINGTON, VA

AUGUST, SOME YEARS AGO, 2:00 A.M.

The man stood in the dark night, waiting by the eternal flame.  The cemetery was officially closed, but that didn't bother the man; officially, he didn't exist.  He lit a cigarette, his eyes going to a mark on the stone that may have—some twenty years ago—been a bloodstain.  He closed the lighter, sighing with something that may have—some twenty years ago—been regret.  He was still now, but for the impatient tapping of one foot, and was hard to see; the full moon was covered more often than not by scudding clouds and he was dressed in a black suit.  He took a drag of his cigarette and blew out the smoke, frowning.  By his estimate he'd been here for ten minutes, which was far too long.

He wasn't alone anymore.  He couldn't see anyone, but he had that uneasy, skin-crawling sensation of being watched.  Usually he was doing the unseen watching and wasn't sure he liked the feeling.

Then there was a break in the clouds and the moon shone full on a woman.  Where she'd come from he couldn't say, didn't care to guess.  She stood quiet, unmoving, regarding him over the small but steady flame between them.  She was maybe five feet three inches and slim, with pantherish muscles and a cat like face.  The Cigarette-Smoking Man didn't want to look at her, but her eyes drew his to them, made him meet her gaze, just as they always had.  She bore deep into his soul, stripping him bare.  He brought his trembling hand up to take another drag of smoke, trying to calm himself.  At over forty he looked every day and then some.  At over forty, she looked nineteen.  She hadn't aged, not a minute since…

"Since the day you killed me," she said grimly.

He gasped, startled; he'd thought she wouldn't have known.  Of course, he'd also thought her dead.  There was no change in her stance, or in the way she looked down her nose at him, but he knew he'd been found lacking and was, much to his surprise, quite sorry for that.

"You did me a favor, though, which is why I didn't reciprocate," she purred.  "By the way, C. G., did I mention?  You look like shit."

He snorted.  "You would, too, if you carried as much power as I do."

"Who says I don't?  I could ghost you right now and your Syndicate buddies wouldn't be able to touch me."

"Really," he said dryly, trying to sound more confident than he felt.  "We're running out of time.  Security…"

"Belongs to me," she said, waving the thought away.  "They've been by three times; twice before I even got here."

He studied her face, trying to determine if she was joking or not, decided she wasn't, and pressed on.  "Then tell me what you want.  You know I could never say no to you."

"Until the day you took my life," she said with something that may have—some twenty years ago—been sorrow.  Then her eyes grew hard.  "You'd better not say no to me now," she growled, lips pulled back in a snarl of anger, the fire glinting dully off her fang-like canines.

The Cigarette-Smoking Man took a step back, suddenly realizing he'd gotten himself into a locked room with a very wild tiger, indeed.  He'd never been more relieved to be carrying a gun in his life.

The snarl became one of derision.  "I could kill you before your mind told your arm to go for it," she purred.  "Now, down to business.  Your Syndicate is running experiments, terminal ones that you've been abducting children for."

"What makes you think…"

"I have my ways.  I'm right and we both know it, so let's quit fucking around.  The upshot is, these children and their families are numbered among the Fe.  Do you know what that means?"

"The last child we took used that word.  It means 'The Folk' in our…" he paused, things beginning to click.  "In my tongue, correct?"

"You're learning.  The Fe, all Fe, are under my protection.  So, here's the deal.  No negotiating.  Stop these experiments, stop killing my children, or else."

"Or else what?"

She walked towards him, stalking him, stopping only when she was a foot away and towering over him.  At nearly a foot shorter, she still towered over him.

"Or else your little play group is done, in the only way such a thing is possible."

The moon was covered again by the clouds, plunging him into darkness.  When the clouds slid away, she was gone, but, her voice floated back on the breeze to kiss him.

"Or else, you will all die."

"You knew him before?"

"We've a long history."

"You're not old enough to have a long history."

Moonshade looked at Mulder sadly and sighed.

"And there were no repercussions?" Scully asked, changing the subject.

Moonshade shook her head, regarded Scully.  "Oh, they had one of their men follow me.  Thanks, Alan."  She took the plate he set down and started cutting her steak.  "He was there for a while, anyhow."

"Why did they pull him…is that thing cooked?"

"What, this?  Not exactly.  They didn't pull him, not really.  I told them they should, you know.  I told them to take him back, before he made a fatal error."  She speared the meat she'd just cut.

"But they didn't?  What happened?"

Moonshade held up the almost raw piece of meat.  "He made a fatal error."

They ate in silence, Mulder and Scully deep in thought and Moonshade in deference to their mood.  After Alan took their plates and refilled their drinks, Scully finally spoke.

"Why did they hire you?"

"Johnson had some valuable items stolen, but, the person who did it isn't petty enough to resort to murder, especially since he got what he wanted.  Sumner was being haunted by a murder victim who wouldn't rest until his murder was solved, but the perp's in jail now.  As for the Two-Feathers family, they were having trouble with werewolves."

Scully glanced at Mulder, then back at Moonshade.  "Werewolves?  You're kidding, right?"

"Nope."

"What happened to the werewolf family?"

"Pack, Scully, wer clans are called by the same term as whatever animal they are.  The pack leader decided a duel was in order; the Two-Feathers' champion—me—against him."

"I take it you won," Scully said dryly.

Moonshade smiled grimly.  "I'm bigger, meaner, and more powerful than any Alpha wer alive today, and smoked his ass.  The pack's long gone; the new Alpha suddenly decided that Colorado wasn't the place to be."

"So, the cases had nothing in common."

"Just the person who worked them."  Moonshade yawned and stretched.  "So you've talked to the families, the keeper who found the bodies, and you've verified my alibi for Monday night.  Where do you want to go next?"

Scully frowned.  "You really don't think we're going to tell you, do you?"

"You've cleared me as a suspect.  Look, Scully, I respect your and Fox's records and reputations, and all, but I've never been one to trust anyone to do a job I can do myself.  Especially when people I care about are in danger.  So, we can work together, or we can work separately and you can get in my way."

"Would that be a fatal error?"

Moonshade smiled grimly.  "With me, Scully, there's rarely any other kind.  It's a long way to Estes just to talk to Bobby, especially since you've already heard from Stefan.  So, that leaves the ME and the security guard who found Johnny's car.  The Arcate Center hires good people, so if there was a cigarette left there, we'll find out what brand, if it was filtered or not, and how much was left."

"I'm sure Mr. Walsh will speak to you, but the ME…"

"Will have no problem letting me into the morgue.  It's a place I've visited many times."

Mulder stood.  "I'll sign for lunch and get the car."

Moonshade waved her hand.  "Your money's no good here and we're taking my car."  She threw Mulder a set of car keys.  "Stefan'll point you to parking.  There's a spot marked Mysterious Ways; that's my car.  We'll be down in a couple of minutes."

"Where will you two be?"

"I've got to get my toys—don't leave home without them.  And Scully wants to keep an eye on me, seeing as how she doesn't trust me as far as she could throw me."

Mulder sighed and walked off.  Moonshade drained her glass, then stood and jerked her head the way he'd gone.  Scully got to her feet and followed.

Moonshade led Scully to the hallway that ran between the restrooms.  At the end of the hall was a doorway, behind that were stairs going down.

"So.  Do you like having all those politicians in your pocket?"

Moonshade laughed.  "So that's what's bugging you.  It helps when I get in trouble with the law, or need information."  Moonshade stopped at a door.

"You're no better than Cancer Man."

Moonshade turned to regard Scully intently. "Most people would be terrified to say that to my face.  But, you're right.  He works for his own interests, I work for mine.  What's more, I've never claimed to be better than him, at least, not in that sense."  She opened the door.  "Come on in."

The office was decorated in black and silver.  There was a large desk and file cabinets to their right, with a chair behind the desk, and two matching chairs in front.  On this wall and the wall across from them were bookshelves.  The rug was black and silver, the design intricate Celtic knot work.  On the middle shelves of the far bookcase were pictures.  The wall behind the desk held a room-length window.  Scully went to the bookcase and looked at the pictures, while Moonshade opened a drawer in the desk.  One of the pictures was of Moonshade with the Lone Gunmen, a trio of scruffy men who ran a conspiracy newsletter and were more paranoid than Mulder, though their information and skills had come in handy on occasion.  Another picture was of Moonshade with a man about Mulder's age, dressed in an expensive Italian suit.  They were standing in front of a large home.

"Is this Crown?"

Moonshade came over, shrugging into a double shoulder holster.  "Yes.  That's his place, back East.  The picture was taken just after we met."

"He's got blonde hair.  Why do you call him Red?"

"Private joke."  She picked up another photo.  This one was a studio shot of Hawthorne with his arms around a thirty-something man of Asian descent.  "That's Johnny."

"You don't look much alike."

"Night and day.  Night and day."

"I see you and Mulder have more than one friend in common."

"What, the Gunmen?  They're helpful sometimes.  If they had any discipline at all, I'd hire them for the new D. C. office."

"You have other branches?"

"One in every Darkwings.  The club and I cater to pretty much the same people."

"Quite a mix of people up there.  What does it take to become a member?"

"You have to be…unusual."  She smiled.  "Or have low friends in high places."  She pulled an ornate box off one of the shelves.

"You didn't get your brother or Hawthorne into the club?"

"Didn't have to; they were members before I was."  She opened the box.  Inside rested over a dozen knives, half of which were made of a dull looking material.

"What are these?"  Scully asked, picking one up.  "Wood?"

"Careful, they're just as sharp as the metal ones.  They're lignum vitae; a very hard, durable type of wood.  A friend turned me on to it."  She touched the gun at her right side.  "These are lignum vitae, too.  Lead cored, to give them weight."

"What do you use them for, vampires?"

"Bingo."  Moonshade put the last few knives on her person.  Scully saw where they went, but once they were in place, they were invisible.

"What are the others?  Silver for werewolves?"

"Silver doesn't do any more damage than any other metal to wer and it's too soft.  Doesn't hold an edge worth shit."

"Do you really believe in them?"

"Vampires, lycanthropes of all sorts, wizards, witches, sorcerers, ghosts, even demons."

 "Let me guess.  You get rid of them all."

Moonshade smiled, the cat that swallowed the canary, as she pulled on a full-length black duster.  "Oh, no, Scully.  I work for them all."  She grabbed a black cowboy hat with a silver band.  "Let's go," she said, settling it on her head.  "Fox'll think we're killing each other."

"Is this all that's on this level?  Your office?"

"No.  I've got large apartments through that door."  She closed the door behind them, pointed down the hall.  "Stefan's office and apartments adjoin mine.  The door's down there."

"You've got quite a set-up here."

Moonshade led the way to the elevator.  "It works out well."

The elevator doors opened and they got in.  Moonshade stabbed the button with her finger and the doors closed.

"How many floors down?"

"Too many," Moonshade said, voice tight.

Scully turned to look at her.  Moonshade wasn't sweating, but her face was pale, her eyes were closed tight, her jaw was set, and one foot was tapping quickly.

"Are you all right?"

"Not really."

"You're claustrophobic."

"We all have our weaknesses."

"I was beginning to wonder.  Do you have any more?"

"Two.  My brother's one."

"And the other?"

The elevator doors opened.  Mulder was sitting in the driver's seat of a black convertible, top down.

"Him," Moonshade said, then opened the car door and slid into the back seat.  She leaned over to talk to Mulder.  "I'll give you directions.  Just get me out of here."

"We're gone."

Once out of the underground parking, Moonshade felt better and gave Mulder directions.  He pulled into a parking spot, shut off the engine, and whistled.

"I've got to get me one of these.  What is it?"

"Asten Martin."

Scully chuckled.  "Gee, Mulder.  Think you can afford one on your salary?"

Moonshade took the keys from him.  "Maybe, if he's really good, I'll get him one for Christmas."

Mulder opened his mouth, but Scully held up her hand.

"Please.  Let's not go there."

Moonshade led the way, laughing.  Inside, the security guard looked up and smiled.

"Moonshade.  Finally here to see the bodies?"

"Yeah.  These two are Feds.  They're with me."

"Oooh, Bureau involvement.  Over here, around the metal detector.  Whatever you did this time, Shade…"

Moonshade had come even with him, she now grabbed his tie and pulled him forward, over his desk, then turned him and slammed him, back down, onto the desk.  With her other hand she pulled her gun—the one for everything else, Scully noticed.  Two guards started forward, hands on guns, but Moonshade looked up and snarled.  The guards held up their hands and backed up with a muttered "Sorry, Lordship."

The gun's muzzle was in the guard's face.  "My brother was the last vic taken.  Not a good time to make cracks.  And I have never, ever, given you permission to call me anything but 'Your Lordship' or 'Lord Moonshade'.  Capice?"

"Yeah.  I got it."

Moonshade let go and holstered her gun.  "Bine.  Don't forget."

She stalked off, the agents following.  "I hate that man.  Fucking srassa.  Don't worry, Scully, I don't fly off the handle at first provocation.  I've had a lot of run-ins with him."

"Just when I was beginning to think you weren't capable of this."

Moonshade stopped and turned around.  "Don't kid yourself, Scully, I am _very_ capable of this.  For example, when I find out who did this, I'm going to kill them."

"Without benefit of a trial?"

"Don't worry.  Unlike Illinois, I only kill the guilty."

Behind Moonshade, someone cleared their throat.  Moonshade spun, ready to attack.

"Marcus again, My Lord?  Count to ten."

"More like a hundred, D'reed.  These are Special Agents Mulder and Scully, with the Bureau.  This is Deb Reed, Chief Coroner.  McCarthy didn't release the bodies, did he?"

"No.  He tried, but I didn't let him.  C'mon.  I'll take you to the customers."

Deb led them to the morgue.  Once there, she and Scully put on gloves.  Deb pulled out the tray labeled "Johnson."

"My ruling was exsanguination, off-site.  Beheading was post-mortem.  Do you know what exsanguination is, Agents?"

"Yes, thank you."

"There were no wounds to account for the blood loss?" Scully asked.

"The only wounds were here, on the left wrist.  All three bodies have them."

Scully turned the wrist over.  "These bug bites?"

"That's the heart side.  What say, D'reed?  About the distance between human incisors?"

"That was my guess."

"You're thinking vampires," Mulder said.

Scully snorted.  "Why not werewolves?"

"Werewolves don't drink blood.  Besides, they have fang-like canines."  Moonshade tapped one of hers with a long fingernail.  "Like mine.  Vampires have long incisors."

"For the sake of argument, let's pretend it is a vampire.  What does that mean?"

"It means Cancer Man's hired a vampire," Mulder said.

Moonshade nodded slowly, lips pursed.  "We done here?  Let's go talk to Walsh.  I want to hear what he has to say."

"Sounds good."

"Thanks, D'reed.  I'll see you around."

Moonshade led the way back to the car.  Mulder caught up to her, put a hand on the small of her back.

"Shade, are you all right?"

"Something's not right.  I just can't see C. G. hiring a vamp.  Something's off."

"Then what's wrong with this picture?"

"That's just it.  It's like an M. C. Escher painting; you know something's wrong, you just don't know what."

Moonshade rode in the back again, leaning over the back of the seat to give Mulder directions to the Arcate Center, which wasn't far from Darkwings.  Mulder pulled into the underground parking lot, was stopped by a traffic arm and a gate guard.

"Do you have a pass, Sir?"

Moonshade cleared her throat.  The guard looked at her, then nodded.

"Sorry, your Lordship.  Andrew is on duty, should I have him wait in your brother's office?"

"Yes, Paul, that'd be great.  Thanks."

"Anything to help, Your Lordship; we all miss him.  Just park in Dr. Hawthorne's spot and I'll make sure you're not towed."

"Thank you."

The arm raised and Mulder pulled forward.

"Now that's how security's supposed to act.  Just ahead, on the left."

Mulder pulled into the spot.  "Where to, now?"

"Follow me," Moonshade said, taking the keys.

She led them through the first floor, to a large office.  A man in a security uniform was sitting in one of the client's chairs.

"Your Lordship," he said, standing and taking her hand.  "I'm so sorry.  I…"

"You did your job, Andrew.  You don't have anything to be sorry for."  She sat down in the chair behind the desk.  "These are Special Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, with the FBI.  They're working with me on this."

"Nice to meet you," Andrew said, shaking their hands.

"What happened that night, Mr. Walsh?"

"I was on rounds.  I'd just passed by where Dr. Hawthorne was taken, when I saw a young thug, trying to break into a car.  He belonged here, I mean, he was the type of people we treat."

"They deal with the same people the club and I do," Moonshade said.

"That took, oh, forty-five minutes or so to clear up," Andrew continued.  "When I got back to where Dr. Hawthorne's car was, it was done.  I found a dart, like a tranq, and a cigarette butt nearby.  The dart had water in it."

"Holy water," Moonshade whispered, lighting a cigarette.  "Excuse me, but I haven't had one all day."

"What about the cigarette?"  Scully asked.  "What do you know about it?"

"It was a Morely, filter less.  It was smoked down to…"

"That's fine, Andrew, and thank you for your help.  Better get back to work."

"Yes, Your Lordship."

He left.  Moonshade started growling softly.

"So that's it, then.  Cancer Man has them."

Moonshade's growl became louder.  "Cancer Man smokes filters," she said, and how anyone could growl and talk at the same time, Scully didn't know.  The growl became a roar, as she crushed her cigarette in her hand.  She got to her feet and strode towards the door.

"If you want a ride back to Darkwings, you'd better hurry up," she snarled.

They made it into the car, just as Moonshade started it.  She whipped it out of the spot and onto the road, doing forty in a thirty.

"What is it?  What's wrong?"

"I think I know who's doing this.  If so, I'm the last person Stefan should have kept this from."

Moonshade finally pulled into the parking lot for the club, but didn't take the elevator.  She raced up three flights of stairs, the fit agents hard pressed to keep up.

The stairs let out just outside the Darkwings entrance.  Moonshade breezed past the line and the doorman—a new one this time—shooting a "They're with me" over her shoulder.

Once inside, she paused, scanned the place.  She spotted Stefan by the bar and whistled once through her teeth.  Stefan looked up, held up a finger.

"Remember where my office is?" Moonshade asked Scully.

"Yes.  Why?"

"I don't lock the door.  Stefan and I'll join you in a minute."

"What's wrong?" Scully asked as she and Mulder headed for the stairs.

"She's pissed.  I've never seen her so angry."

"She's so calm."

"Her eyes weren't."

Moonshade strode up to Stefan.  "You have two minutes to join me in my office," she growled.  "If you're not there, I come up and haul your ass down there myself.  And I _won't_ be gentle."

She walked away and down to her office. Mulder and Scully were there, looking at her pictures.

"Sit down and shut up.  I'm pissed at him, but if you get in the way, I'm liable to turn on you."

"What…"

"This is between me and him, Scully," Moonshade snarled.  Her canines were long and sharp, her eyes were slits.  "I'll explain after I finish with him."

Mulder and Scully sat down in the client's chairs.  Moonshade stood in front of them, leaning against her desk.  She was there, arms crossed, when Stefan came in.


	5. Chapter 4

"Where.  Is.  Harrison?" Moonshade asked.

The silence was so heavy that neither of the agents could breathe.  Then came the answer.

"The last time I was made aware of his location, he was living in the mountains, near Evergreen."

"You srassa," Moonshade spat.  Stefan flinched, as if hit.  "Because you didn't tell me this, my friend and brother are gone."

Moonshade's voice was quiet and calm, but so filled with menace that Stefan took a step back. Suddenly it seemed that she was no longer his friend, but his superior.  "Get everyone you have on this, get me the info I need, and do it yesterday," she snarled, giving him his marching orders.

Stefan bowed slightly.  "Yes, Chere.  Mais, please, understand.  I have responsibilities."  He turned to leave.

"Stefan," Moonshade said softly.  Stefan ignored her.  "Stefan," she said again, more forcefully.  "Stefan Coeur de Lion."

Stefan turned slowly, as if he didn't want to, but had no choice.

"_I_ am your Lord and your first responsibility is to _me_.  Don't _ever_ forget that again."

Mulder thought that if Moonshade had been talking to him, he would have been cowering.  But, Stefan managed to stand straight under the weight of her gaze, though he didn't meet her eyes.

"No, My Lord," he said quietly.  "I will not."

"Bine," she said, and the quiet but dangerous storm was over.  "I don't want to have to pull rank on you again.  Now, get me that info."

"Oui," he said, and then was gone.

Moonshade sat on her desk and crossed her legs, closed her eyes, and took a steadying breath.

"What's 'srassa'?"

"It means snake.  It's the worst insult my people give."  She lit a cigarette with steady hands.

"I've never heard it before."

Moonshade shrugged.  "It's not a human language.  I found my way to Denver some years ago.  Within a month, I was introduced to Clayton Harrison."

Scully sat back.  "The reclusive businessman?"

"Your patron," Mulder said softly.

"Yes to both.  He offered me a deal; he'd set me up with a business, name and location mine, and give me everything I'd need, even side-stepping any laws that were in the way.  In return, I'd take only paranormal cases and send him reports.  I was naïve and did what he asked.

"Then, former clients started dying, all exsanguinated and beheaded.  When the police investigated, they looked at me, of course, but the trail led to Harrison.  He was dying, looking for ways to reach immortality and had contacted those clients he thought were able to help.  If they didn't, he killed them, whether or not they actually could have helped him, and drained their blood, trying to find a way to bypass rules and use their power on his own.

"It came down to him and me.  I was bigger, meaner, and more powerful, and ended his suffering—or so I thought.  He'd left everything to me, most likely expecting to be able to get it back when he returned.  I liquidated assets, paid some out as punitive damages to the families of those he'd killed, and kept the rest for my damaged rep.  The intangible assets—contacts, favors, etc.—I kept, to use for my own ends. "

"You destroyed his network and took his money.  Sounds like motive for revenge to me."

"But, Harrison hasn't been heard from for decades.  He was rumored dead quite a while ago."

Moonshade shrugged.  "Same for Paul McCartney.  Rumors are funny things."

The door opened and Stefan came in.  "Dr. Hawthorne is being held at M'sieur Harrison's home, outside of Evergreen.  It was just completed last month."

"Made for the occasion, then."  Mulder frowned.  "That was quick."

"Oui.  It will be a trap.  I will attempt to find maps of the building."

"Keep working on Red.  If Johnny's still alive, he will be until I can get to him.  Since it's a trap, I want Red with me."

"As for M'sieur Crown, Detective McCarthy is on the phone to speak with you.  He states that he has some information."

Mulder frowned.  "Who does he work for, though?"

"Cancer Man," Scully said.  "He wouldn't have gotten rid of the cigarettes otherwise."

"He was recruited about a year ago.  Thank you, Stefan."

Stefan nodded and left.  Moonshade picked up the phone.  "Speak."

"Top of the tower at Elitch's.  Ten minutes."

"If this isn't worth my time…"

"It is, I promise.  Your name's on the pass list; you'll get a day pass.  Take the North elevator."

"I'll be there."

She hung up and laughed.  "He's meeting me in ten minutes.  Cancer Man's got him by the short hairs, that's for sure.  I've got to leave now, if I'm going to make it."

"I'm going with."

Moonshade studied Scully for a minute, then nodded.  "Fine.  But I do the talking.  Fox?  I suppose you want to go, too?"

"No, I've got to make some calls.  Be careful."

"Always am.  Ask Stefan for anything you need; the intercom button on the phone'll get you his office.  C'mon, Scully."

Mulder waited until the women were long gone, then picked up the phone and dialed.  He wasn't sure if the Lone Gunmen would be in, but right now he needed answers only they could give, to questions he would only ask them.  The phone rang twice, then was picked up.

"Hello," a wary voice answered.

"Frohike?  Mulder.  I need some info."

"About?"

"Clayton Harrison."

"That's easy.  Reclusive businessman, killed in 1972, has since been sighted in New York and D. C."

"Him and Elvis.  Was he really killed?"

"A death certificate was filed.  In life, there were rumors that he was involved with the Cabal and/or the Illuminati."

"You mean there really is such a thing?"

"Sure, just wait until you hear a list of the people involved."

"Later.  Next question.  Lord Moonshade?"

"Private dick.  You met her in '95 and she's been keeping an eye on you ever since.  She investigates the same type of cases you do, except for the alien stuff, which she stays away from.  She's quite knowledgeable, too.  She can go into more detail about our theories than we can and she knows just about anyone we mention."

"What about her unusual characteristics?"

"She's very tight-lipped about those.  So far, we've only seen heightened senses—I figure they're anywhere from five to ten times better than the highest normal for humans—but there's been hints of more.  We have no idea why she is the way she is."

"Any idea how old she is?"

Frohike paused.  "What does it say…"

"I've heard that one before, but she claims she killed Harrison.  How old is she?"

There was a pause.  "She was born in '44, Mulder."

Mulder sighed.  "Same age as Cancer Man.  What else do you know?"

"Nothing."

Mulder didn't believe Frohike, but decided he'd rather hear it from Moonshade.  "One last question.  Darkwings."

Frohike sighed, glad to change the subject.  "Stefan duMort owns the seven that exist.  From what we can tell, he's lived in New Orleans for a good number of years, though we don't think he's a native.  He used to be in the thieves' guild down there and in Paris.  The club itself is very elite; you can't get in without membership and there are some very powerful people who have memberships."

"Like?"

"Government, FBI, CIA.  Military—and I'm talking as high up as the Pentagon—Congressmen, White House officials, and wealthy businessmen.  It's a who's who of Cabal members."

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing.  But, if so many members are people we know belong to the Cabal…and we all know what they want.  Be careful, Mulder."

"Yeah.  Thanks, Frohike."

Mulder hung up, then glanced at the door and started.  Stefan stood in the doorway.

"Your friend does not know quite as much as he believes he does."

Mulder glanced at the phone, then at the doorway.  "You could hear that?"

Stefan smiled.  "I am not quite as singular as Her Lordship, but I am more than normal."

"What do you know about the Cabal?"

"That it is not now, and has never been, an organization bent on either world domination or destruction."

"Then what is it?"

Stefan came in, shutting the door behind him, and sat in the other chair.  "You live on the border of a world that most mundane people see nothing of.  Do you never wish for someone to speak to, of the things you have seen?  Those who come here live fully in that other world; it is as normal to us as anything.  But, we must be careful, even secretive.  So I have these places built, where we need not hide.  Where we can speak and exchange ideas.  The rumors of world domination no doubt come from mundane knowledge of those of us with power and those of us who do, indeed, wish to rule.  But, the majority of us wish to simply live in peace."

"Why hide at all?  The truth…"

"The truth is a double-edged sword, M'sieur Mulder.  Tell me.  You have dealt with vampires, non?  You do not like them; I can see it in your face.  How many people do you think fear us as you do and with so little need?"

Mulder edged back from Stefan.  "So that's it, then.  You're a vampire.  But, what do you mean, 'with so little need'?  Those three…"

"Were only three.  You have apprehended many killers who—while adept at what they did—were still only human.  Have you condemned all of humanity for those few you have caught?"

"No," Mulder said cautiously.

"So why, then, would you condemn all vampires for the few you met?  Or all shape-changers for the one you encountered?  As I said, you live on the border.  Your perceptions are still clouded by folklore, legends, and Hollywood.  It is the same with almost everyone.  That is why we choose to—why we must—keep our nature secret.  If the truth were to get out in more than rumors and stories, there would be genocide on a dozen fronts.  People would die, who did not deserve such a cruel fate.  Even normal people would die, those who work at night, or lay claim to special abilities they do not truly have.  The truth can set us free, but it can also kill.  Or cause others to do so."

"How much of what I know is wrong?"

"Most of it."

"What about Shade?"

"That is not my story to tell."

"She said something about that, once.  'Knowledge is earned, not given,' isn't that it?"

"Oui.  You have earned some, however, which is why I have no qualms about telling you what I have."  Stefan smiled.  "I trust you to not use this information to harm us."

"Haven't I earned more?" Mulder asked quietly.  "About Shade?"

"That is a matter of some disagreement between us.  But, as I said, it is not my story to tell, or I would.  You must know, M'sieur Mulder that you bring to her feelings she has not felt but once and he betrayed her in the worst possible way.  She is afraid of loving you, of chasing you away, or of dragging you into this world that may well kill you.  Therefore, she keeps her own counsel, as always."

"Is the truth that horrible.?"

"Horrible?  Non.  Not in the grand scheme of things.  But, when it is given to a normal human, who has not seen even a fraction of the dark world that is really there…Perhaps now you understand.  Never before has she felt fear.  It is something new for her."

Mulder put his arms on his knees and his forehead on his arms.  He wasn't sure he wanted to know this.  Suddenly, he thought of something and looked up.  "Harrison.  Frohike said there was a death certificate on him."

"He found one of our kind who was willing to help.  Moonshade killed him, but he returned."

"How do you know where he is?"

"I am Master of this city and the surrounding area.  It is my duty to know and protect—or dispatch, when necessary—the vampires who reside in my territory."

"Why didn't you tell her about him?"

"When we met in Paris, she was lost, unsure of her place in life.  She was young, knowing only that she was different, even from those who are, themselves, different, but unsure how or why.  I knew her for what she is and offered her a place to go.  For months, I slowly helped her learn her true nature.  At the time, I still considered her a cub and made the decision as to what she should know.  It was a gross error in judgment, but unchangeable at this late date.  If you will excuse me, now, I have many things to do.  I hope you will think about what I have said.

Stefan left, but Mulder didn't move, going over the many things he'd just learned.


	6. Chapter 5

Sorry for the delay, I had computer problems.

Thanks to Blacktrillium for the reviews. In response to the latest one, yes, but only briefly.

So, without further ado, let's continue.

Moonshade pulled into the parking lot of Elitch Gardens, a Six-Flags amusement park.  She pulled up to the gate, but the attendant waved her through.

"It must be nice, not to have to pay parking.  You come here often?"

Moonshade snorted.  "Hardly. I have enough exhilaration with my job, I don't need to ride a roller coaster."  She pulled into a spot that read "Employee of the month only" and shut off the car.  "Let's go," she said, getting out.

Scully followed her to the entrance.  Moonshade waited impatiently in line, then got up to the booth. Scully stood next to her to look into the booth.  Green eyes looked back out of a very dark-skinned face, studying Scully intently.

"Lord Moonshade and guest."

The man gave them two passes.  "This will be to your satisfaction, Your Lordship," he said.  His voice was South African, but Scully thought she could hear a trace of Moonshade's unusual accent.

Moonshade nodded.  "Thank you," she said leading the way into the park.

"He sounded like you," Scully said.

Moonshade laughed.  "You've got a good ear.  He's one of my Folk, but he works for Cancer Man.  He was letting me know this info's legit."  Moonshade led Scully to a large tower.

"The Syndicate and I pay to close it, when we need to use it," Moonshade said as they got onto the elevator.  "We go halvsies."  She sniffed the air and pressed the button.  "That's odd.  McCarthy wasn't here." The elevator started going up.

"How can you tell?"

"His scent's not here."

"His…Oh, never mind.  Did he take the other elevator?"

"No, someone else took this one."  Moonshade tested the air again, then stiffened.  "Now it's very important that you let me do the talking," she said as the elevator ground to a halt.

"Who is it?" Scully asked, but the doors opened and she could see for herself.

"Hello, C. G.  How long has it been?"

"I doubt you'd like me to say, with Scully here."  The Cigarette-Smoking man put a cigarette in his mouth, then patted his pockets.  "Light?"

Moonshade put a cigarette in her own mouth and lit them with a lighter. The Cigarette-Smoking Man took her hand and opened it before she could put the lighter away.

"You still have it."

Moonshade shrugged, dropping the lighter into a pocket.  "It works just fine and it's good advice.  Why are we here?"

He held up a manila folder.  "Maps to and of the property where your friend is being held."

Moonshade took the folder, but The Cigarette-Smoking Man didn't let go.

"Do you love him?"

Moonshade snorted.  "Who are you talking about?  Vincent, or Fox?"

"Perhaps both."

"Do you really care?"

"I'd like to think I'm the only one."

Moonshade took the cigarette out of her mouth, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him as a lover might.  "You were the first.  Let that be enough," she said, gently taking the folder.  "Thank you, C. G.  I don't say that often and never to you.  Don't expect any other compensation."

She and Scully went back to the elevator.  They were quiet until they were on their way down.

"You love Cancer Man, don't you?"

"Past tense, Scully.  It's hard to love someone after they kill you."

"'After they kill you?'  What do you mean by that?"

"Just what I said.  He killed me, Scully, when I got too close to his…extra-curricular activities. What, you've never heard of near-death experiences?  I'm not exaggerating; I actually was declared dead."

Scully was silent for a minute.  "What does the lighter say?" she finally asked.

"Trust no one."  Moonshade laughed humorlessly.  "How ironic.  When he gave it to me, he meant no one but him.  As it turned out, he was the last one I should have trusted."

They returned to the car, where Moonshade opened the folder and looked at the maps.  Once finished, she started the car and pulled out of the lot and onto the road.

"We can have a SWAT team ready in a few minutes."

"Yep.  Sure could."

"So let's…"  Scully paused, looking at the road signs.  "Where are you going?"

"To the pass.  Look, Scully, SWAT would send them running for the hills, after they put a bullet into Red's brain.  With just the two of us, they'll never see us coming."

"What about Mulder?"

"We don't have time.  If Harrison finds out I've gotten this info, Red's life is forfeit."

"You love him, don't you?"

"No.  Love doesn't come easily to me, Scully, not anymore.  But I care about him, and he's under my protection."

"That means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

"I don't give my protection very often and I fail even less."

"You didn't…"

Moonshade slammed her fist on the steering wheel.  "I should have seen it coming.  I should have checked up on Harrison.  I should have…" she cut herself off with a snarl.  "You can't understand."

"The Syndicate killed my sister, because They thought she was me," Scully said quietly.  "I understand all too well."

"So you do.  I'm sorry."

Scully glanced at the other woman.  "You're not as unfeeling as I thought."

Moonshade smiled.  "I'm not at all what I seem at first glance.  I'm close, but I'm not cold."

"What are you?"  It was only after she spoke that Scully realized the phrasing she'd used.  She hoped Moonshade wouldn't take offense.

Her smile became sad.  "Sometimes, I am very, very lonely," she whispered.

Scully took the property map and opened it up.  "There are four lodges and a maintenance shed.  There aren't any details of the buildings."

Moonshade growled softly.  "No ski lifts?"

"Umm…yes.  Two. One of them ends by the maintenance shed."

"Then he'll be at one of two places.  The building closest to the road, or the shed."

Scully nodded.  "Sure, They could use the lift to get him to the top of the run."  She glanced sidelong at Moonshade.  "There may be gunplay.  Will you be all right?"

Moonshade smiled grimly.  "You saw my arsenal.  Believe me, I know how to use them.  I'll be fine."

"Do you believe Mulder?  About aliens, I mean?"

"Sort of."

"But they're impossible."

"Five years ago, so was cloning.  It's not scientifically impossible, Scully, it's just that man's science hasn't discovered everything yet.  I don't expect it ever will."

"You have a dim view of science."

Moonshade laughed.  "No, not of science.  Of humans."

"You act like you know something I don't."

"I do."

Scully fell quiet for the rest of the ride, even though the self-imposed silence made it seem like forever before Moonshade finally pulled over and shut off the car.

"We're here.  Got enough ammo?"

"Two clips."

"You may need more.  Here're two extras."  Moonshade handed Scully the clips, then looked at her for a moment, before pulling out a clip from an inside pocket of her jacket.  She handed it to Scully.

"A clip of my special bullets.  If I tell you to use them, use them.  I know you don't like me, but trust me anyhow."

Scully met Moonshade's gaze; there was so much she wanted to ask, but no time now.  In any case, Scully reflected, she didn't know the words to use.  She didn't like Moonshade, but Mulder trusted the girl a great deal, and that spoke volumes to Scully.  After a moment's hesitation, she slipped the clip into her suit pocket.

"All right.  Let's go."

They got out of the car and moved quietly through the parking lot, towards the trees.  Scully was glad she'd worn flats today.  They passed through the first line of trees and were on the trail, when Moonshade stopped short.  Scully frowned.

"What…"

"Hsst!"

A moment later Scully heard it, the sound of someone walking through the wooded area.  She had her gun drawn when a man came into view, his back towards the women.

"FBI!  Freeze!" Scully shouted, aiming her gun.

The man turned.  Scully gasped, lowering her gun.  He was a handsome man, or would have been, had it not been for the four scars that marred the right side of his face.

There was a sound from Moonshade.  It took Scully a moment to realize that the other woman was laughing. It was a grim, sardonic, almost evil sound that sent chills down Scully's back.

"So good to see you remember me, Carter.  Care to finish what we started?"

"Not today, Moonshade."

Carter turned and started running.  Moonshade was off like a shot, Scully only a step behind.  He led them straight to the lodge closest to the property entrance, ducking inside just before they got to the porch.  Moonshade followed, jumping to bypass the stairs, and tested the door.

"It's locked."

"Scar-face is in there."

"Along with several others, I'm sure."  Moonshade put her ear to the door.  "They're not in the main room, though."

"Do we go in?"

"It's probably a trap, with Carter leading us here.  But there's a slim chance that it's not.  That Red's inside."

Scully drew her gun.  "We may as well be prepared.'

Moonshade drew her own gun.  "Sounds good.  Ready?"

Scully aimed her gun at the lock.  "Ready."

"Save your ammo.  I'll kick it in."

"That only works in the movies."

"Or if you have Godly strength." 

"Don't you mean 'ungodly'?"

Moonshade raised her foot and kicked the lock.  With a cracking sound and splinters of wood, the door flew open.  She turned to Scully and smiled mischievously, her eyes sparkling.  "Oh no, Scully, I mean Godly.  Lights're on.  They're waiting for us."

The women stepped into the building.  The main room was fairly large, with a fireplace at one end.  Two long, wooden tables were the only furniture. At the far end of the room was a door; another door was on their left.

"So where are they?"

Moonshade closed the door behind them with a kick.  "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

The inside doors flew open and the gunmen came into the room.  They didn't waste any time and neither did the women.  Bullets were sprayed throughout the room.  Two men fell, alive but out of the fight, and another three fell and lay still. From the other rooms, more gunmen came out to replace them.  Moonshade glanced around, grabbed one of the large wooden tables and tipped it over, then shoved Scully down behind it.

"What the…"

"Fox will have my head if I don't bring you back in one piece."

"He'll kill me if you get hurt.  So why are you still out there?"

Moonshade laughed, dropping two more shooters.  "I don't break."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Three more gunmen fell.  "Hell yes, I am.  I love a good fight.  Only five more; we're wading…"  Moonshade's thought was cut off with a yowl of pain. Her gun fell to the floor with a clatter only just audible over the shots.  a red stain spread across her right shoulder.

"I got her," one of the men shouted.  Suddenly he fell, a throwing knife stuck in his throat.

"I don't like being shot," Moonshade roared.  Four more knives flew and four more men fell.

"Rope over there, no doubt for us.  Tie 'em, Scully.  All right, boys, where's Carter?"

"Go home, Little Girl.  You're out of your league."

Moonshade calmly walked up to the speaker and backhanded him with a fist. Scully examined the damage.

"You broke his jaw."

"Out of my league?  I've been playing with the big boys before you were even born.  Now, anyone else want to mouth off?  Where is Carter?"

"He went up to the maintenance shed."

"I'll be back, Scully.  I'm going to stop him before there's a warning."

"You can't.  Your arm…"

"I'll be fine."  Moonshade strode towards the door they had come in.

"What about your gun?  He's probably armed."

"Probably, but this is old business.  Old business requires the personal touch."

Carter, listening carefully, didn't hear anyone else as he hurried to the shed.  Suddenly a twig snapped behind him and it was too late.  Moonshade leapt, landing on Carter and knocking him face-first into the ground. He struggled, but only managed to turn his face for air, the scarred cheek against the dirt and grass.

"Let's even that out, eh, Carter?" Moonshade growled, lashing out with long nails.

Carter, reacting with a desperate strength born of fear and pain, threw her off and jumped to his feet.  She twisted in mid-air, landing upright.  They paused, watching each other, Carter reaching up to check the side of his face.  He pulled his hand back, fingertips covered with blood.

Moonshade cocked her head, admiring her handiwork.  "Hmm.  A little high, but not too bad."

Carter saw the look in her eyes and stepped back.  She leapt, knocking him down again, and smiled wickedly.

"Let me run," he pleaded.  "Give me a chance."

"You've already had your chance."  She raised her arm and lashed out again, this time at his throat.

Scully spent her time by tying up the gunmen.  There weren't that many; the one with the broken jaw wasn't in any shape to do much of anything and most of the others were dead. Scully frowned.  She certainly hadn't been shooting to kill.  She finished, then turned her attention to the injured, but there wasn't much she could do under the circumstances.

The door opened and Moonshade came in.  She retrieved her gun and holstered it, then pulled her knives from the dead men.

"Where's Carter?"

Moonshade wiped the blades on a shirt no one was going to need anymore. "Oh, him?  He fell down a cliff and broke his neck.  Let's go."

She sheathed her knives and headed out the door.  Scully caught up and took Moonshade's arm then winced, realizing she'd grabbed the girl's bad arm.

Moonshade spun, eyes flashing angrily.  "Let go of me," she growled, low and menacing.

Scully did, but stood her ground.  "You were trying to kill them, weren't you?  And Carter wasn't an accident."

"In my world, Scully, we play for keeps."

"I could have you arrested…"

"For what?  It wouldn't stand up in court, you know that.  Deadly force calls for deadly force and you can be damn sure it wasn't my arm they were shooting for.  Stay in the car if you want, but the kid gloves are off."

"You're going to get yourself killed."

"In my world, that's a given.  But it's not going to happen for quite a while, yet.  Now, can we go?"  Moonshade strode off without waiting for an answer.

"I'm glad it's the beginner's slope," Scully muttered and followed.

It seemed to take forever to reach the top of the slope.  Once there, Scully stopped and sat down on a log. "I need to catch my breath."

"Fine.  I want to check things out.  I'll be right back."

"You're right, you know, there's no point in arresting. you.  You don't have to worry."

"I don't give a tinker's damn, Scully.  Even if you tried, I'd be out before you could say 'boo'."

Moonshade turned and melted into the shadows.  Scully shook her head, amazed.  The sun was shining and Moonshade was lightly colored, but she was still invisible.

Scully sighed deeply, turning things over and over in her mind. Why did this bother her so much? She'd killed before.  Yes, she finally told herself, but only when there had been no choice.  No matter what Moonshade said about self-defense, there had been another way. Hadn't there?"

Scully jumped to her feet at the sound of a scuffle behind her and drew her gun.  "Who's there?" she asked, cursing her shaky voice.

"No one but us shadows," Moonshade sweetly purred, stepping out of the trees.  She threw a body down in front of Scully.  "And Harrison's gunners," she said harshly.  "One of yours, I believe."

Scully lowered her gun; Moonshade couldn't have made her point any clearer.  "Let's get this over with."

"Mmhmm.  The sooner we get Red, the sooner we get Johnny, and the sooner you can get away from me.  You don't have to come with to get Johnny, you know."

"Someone's got to keep you in check.  I doubt your friend's going to, and I know Mulder won't."

"What makes you thing anyone can?"

Scully ignored the question, not sure there was an answer.  "Did you check out the shed?"

"Yes.  There aren't any guards outside, but there's a bunch inside.  There's also a new lock one that's much too big for a simple maintenance shed."

Moonshade led the way.  When they got there, Scully saw what she'd meant.

"That thing's huge.  Are you going to kick this one in, too?"

"Oh, I probably could, but it would take a couple of tries, even for me." She raised her gun and fired a shot. The lock blew apart, and the shots started.  Moonshade kicked the door out of the way and jumped aside.  Two men dropped to the ground, lifeless.  Moonshade laughed.

"Good shot.  You're learning; if we don't get them here, we'll just see them again later."

There were almost as many men as had been in the lodge and how they all fit in there, Scully didn't know.  But the women had the advantage of shooting from the cover of the doorframe. Moonshade took another shot, this time in the leg, but it was only a graze.  Within minutes, they had cleared the shed.

"I don't want to do that again."

"Then I've got bad news, you'll probably have to.  Harrison doesn't understand or appreciate the subtleties of power; he likes large numbers of big guns.  He's a fool."

They stepped over the bodies and found a small closet hidden in the back, with a large padlock.  Scully raised her gun.

"If Red is in there, you'll blow his ears out.  Give me a minute."

Moonshade looked at the keyhole, then pulled a soft leather case from her left boot.  When opened, it revealed a set of jeweler's—or lock—picks.  She took two out and set to work.

"Your arm!"

Moonshade glanced at Scully, then turned her attention back to the lock. "What about it?"

"You're using it."

"I told you, Scully, I don't break."  The lock fell to the floor, Moonshade replaced her picks, then opened the door.  "Voila.  Meet Mister Vincent Crown."

The man in the closet looked tired, but had no obvious wounds.  He looked up, blinking as his eyes got used to the light.  When they did, he glared at Moonshade.

"Took you ling enough.  You usually work faster than this."

Moonshade shrugged.  "Sorry. Johnny was taken two days ago, so I was kind of preoccupied."  She offered him a hand, which he took, and pulled him to his feet.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Crown?" Scully asked.  "Are you…?"

"Shade, who is this?"

"May I introduce Dana Scully, former MD, current Special Agent with the FBI, and Mulder's partner."

"Mulder?  Well, well, isn't it a small world?  I'm fine, thank you, Agent Scully.  Nothing food, a hot bath, and a bit of rest won't take care of."

"You can get food and the bath, but don't count on too much rest. We're going after Johnny tomorrow night."

"You came after me first?  Means Johnny's bait."

"Bingo."

"Then let's get out of here before the Calvary arrives."

They made their way to the car, Scully saying little, watching Moonshade's arm and leg.  Once in the car, she finally spoke.

"I've never seen anyone heal that fast."

"I know."

"I'd like to run some tests."

From the backseat, Vincent laughed.  "Don't ever count on that happening, Agent Scully."

"I'm no one's guinea pig, Scully.  I don't like tests."

"But don't you want to know why you heal so fast?"

Moonshade smiled her mysterious, I-know-more-than-you-do smile. "Who says I don't?"

Mulder was still in Moonshade's office, examining what Stefan had brought him.  There were maps for both the property and the inside of the house.  Mulder frowned.  Something wasn't quite right about them.

Stefan set a bottle of beer down on the desk and Mulder almost didn't jump.  Three times Stefan had come in, each time doing so without making a sound.

"It would be nice if you would stop doing that."

Stefan smiled.  "Forgive me, but it is something we cannot help."  He motioned to the beer.  "I thought you might be thirsty."

"Thanks, but I'm on duty."

"Many law enforcement officials have discovered that, when working with Her Lordship, it is much better to be off duty."

Mulder smiled wryly, took off his tie and jacket, and rolled up his sleeves.  "You have a point there. What's that?"

Stefan spread out a piece of paper onto the desk.  "A friend owns a single-engine plane.  This is an ariel view of the home."

Mulder took and examined the picture, then looked at the map of the inside.   He drank half the beer, then crumpled the map.

"Damnit!"

"I am sorry."

Mulder waved the apology away with a sigh.  "Don't be.  There's nothing more you could have done.  How long have they been gone, anyhow?"

"It has been about three hours."  The phone rang.  "That will be Her Lordship, I believe."

Mulder grabbed the phone.  "Mysterious Ways."

Moonshade laughed.  "Since when did Stefan hire you as my secretary?"

"He thought it was you, but just in case…where have you been?"

"C. G. came through.  McCarthy had maps of where Red was being held."

"What do you mean 'was'?"

"Scully and I got him out.  He's fine.  Nothing food, bath, and sleep won't take care of."

"You went without me?  You could have been hurt."

"Nothing two women—and excellent shots, at that—couldn't take care of."

"There was gunplay?"

"You worry too much.  Any luck with the house?"

"We had a map of the inside."

"What do you mean 'had'?"

"We got an aerial shot.  The map doesn't fit."

"Shit, we'll have to go in blind, then.  We'll meet you back at the hotel.  Red can stay there tonight."

"We're going in tomorrow night, then?  SWAT…"

"Don't even think about it, Fox."

"All right.  Room three-oh-five.  I'll have them give you a key, if you'd like."

"I'd like.  We're about an hour away, a little more once we get food."

"I'll be at the hotel by then.  Tell Vinny and Scully to get some sleep; I'll see them in the morning. You owe me, for leaving me behind, you know."

"I'll make it up to you.  See you in a bit."

She hung up and pulled off the highway.  "Fox says to both of you, get some sleep and he'll see you in the morning."

Vincent's eyes narrowed.  Moonshade's use of Mulder's first name hadn't gotten past him. Mulder hadn't even let his parents call him Fox.  If he let Shade…Vincent shoved the thoughts aside with a mental shrug.  No use speculating now.  He'd see the two of them together soon enough and would know for sure then.

When they returned to the city Moonshade got a room for Vincent, then made her way to Mulder's room.  He was awake, laying on the bed and watching TV.  She glanced at the set as she undressed.

"The Sci-Fi network?  I'd think you'd get tired of that type of thing."

"You don't."

She smiled and crawled into bed.  "But, I'm not a normal human.  Normal humans can't handle a concentrated dose of weirdness."  She moved closer, resting her head on Mulder's chest.

Mulder wrapped his arms around her.  "I had a nice chat with duMort."

"Oh?"

"He told me about his…condition."

"Really?  He must like you."

"What would happen?  If the truth came out, I mean."

Moonshade heaved a sigh.  "Didn't Stefan tell you?"

"I need to hear it from you."

She sat up and used the remote to turn off the TV.  "Genocide, Fox.  Chaos.  Vigilantes and I'm not talking about the good guys, like Shadowman, up there in New York.  People killing others who work at night, or who are unusually hairy.  Murders of fortunetellers, or of doctors who seem to have that special touch, something more than normal. The assassination of government officials who are rumored to be in the Cabal.  We'd probably fall into another Dark ages, with humans killing those who are not-so-normal, or simply appear to be."

"You'd be right in the middle, of course."

She laughed humorlessly.  "Aren't I always?  It's not worth it, Fox.  Too many lives would be ruined."

"How many of those lives do you really care about?"

"You should know the answer to that by now.  I only care about those I put under my protection.  It may seem callous, or cruel, but it's the way I am."

"Why can't you tell me?  Don't you trust me?"

"No, not that, never that.  It's one of the Rules of the Game; knowledge must be earned, not given. I've given you more, much more, than I've given any of my lovers."

"Then what's this cat thing?"

"I don't know what you mean," she said innocently.

He wasn't fooled.  She knew, but he'd spell it out, if that were how she wanted to play.  "We saw a tape of an interrogation featuring you and McCarthy, an ailurophobe, who was having a panic attack, Scully and the Governor don't like you or cats, and let's not forget your looks, or where the bodies are being dumped.  There's a definite motif here, Shade."

"I once promised you that I would never give you lies or half-truths. Cats are significant to me; you're on the right track."

There was a moment of silence, which Mulder broke.  "How close are you and Vinny?"

Moonshade closed her eyes and sighed at a question she neither expected nor wanted.  She laced her fingers through his.

"He's a close friend, a great help, and good company, when my bed feels empty.  But he's a poor substitute.  For five years, they've all been poor substitutes."

"Shade, I…"

"Shut up," she growled.  "I know, Fox.  But I can't give you what you want."  She laughed harshly.  "I can't give either of us what we want."

"Why?  What is it?"

"It's the one thing I'd have to give up.  The one thing I must and the one thing I can't."

"Can't?  Or won't?"

"Sometimes, Ca've, it all amounts to the same thing."

They were quiet for a long moment and Moonshade began to think everything had been said.

Mulder sighed, needing to ask, not wanting to.  "Shade, Harrison was killed in '72."

She was quiet for a moment.  "It was that long ago, wasn't it?"

"You're older than 23."

"I'm 56.  How much did the Gunmen tell you?"

"Nothing beyond that."

Moonshade sighed.  "I was born in Jamestown, NY.  Same place Red's from, just many years before.  When Johnny was stationed in D.C. with the air force, I moved down there, too."

"So you're his older sister?"

"We're twins, actually.  He's a vampire, like Stefan and Adam.  Sometimes they do age, just very slowly.  It was in D. C. that I met C. G. B. Spender.  It was a few months later that we got together.  We kept it up even after he was recruited by the Syndicate, though I didn't know about that 'til later."

"Did you love him?"

She sighed.  "I did, Gods help me.  I got a job in the White House after JFK was elected.  I knew him, so Dallas was a real blow.  When the Warren Commission's report came out, I didn't believe it in the least, so I started my own investigation.  I found the answer and asked C. G. to meet me at Arlington. Something in my voice must have given me away.  I never saw him, but he saw, and shot, me.  I changed my name and hooked up with a guy who was off to Europe.  While we were there, he taught me everything I needed to know to stay alive.  I didn't fall in love this time—I had promised myself never to let a man have that much power over me again.  It was a good thing, too, because, after a year or so, he tried to kill me.  I killed him instead, then wandered Europe until I met Stefan in Paris.  He brought me back to the States, where I was reunited with Johnny, learned what I really am, got the business, etc."

"My father?"

"That's not my story."

"He's dead.  Cancer Man had him killed."

"I'm sorry, Fox.  The experiments I stopped were his theories put into practice."

"The guy the Syndicate had following you?"

She shrugged.  "I told you.  He made a fatal error."

"Death seems to like you."

She laughed.  "You have no idea.  I do what I have to."

"The suspects in your cases have a high mortality rate."

"Vampires, or lycanthropes, wizards, or something just as deadly. All people, or monsters, that the mundane authorities have no hope of bringing to trial.  Don't worry.  Unlike the mundane justice system, I only kill the guilty."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm the world's best hunter, Fox.  I only kill the guilty.  Any other questions?"

"Why haven't you aged?"

She paused before answering.  "I'm not a vampire, but I am…I'm not sure what word you'd use. Not supernatural.  Paranormal, maybe, though I think mythical is nearer the mark."

"In other words, you're not human."

"Not in the least."

"What do your other lovers say when they find out?"

"Strangely enough, the subject doesn't usually come up."

"Stefan knows."

"He's a vampire, Fox, it hardly bothers him.  What about you?"

He looked at her for a moment.  "No. No, I don't think it does," he said, then kissed her.


	7. Chapter 6

DENVER, CO

WEDNESDAY, 9:00 P.M.

Vincent joined the others in Mulder's room after spending the day in his own, sleeping.  He took a quick glance around the room before sitting, mainly to take a look at Mulder and Shade at the table where they were sitting next to each other.  Every now and then, she would brush his hand, or he would lean his head close to hers.  Vincent nodded slightly to himself.  There was no doubt that Mulder was the Fed Shade had fallen for.  Vincent just wasn't sure how he felt about it.

While Vincent paused before taking a seat, Scully looked him over with a critical eye, trying to determine his condition.  He looked much better after rest and food; Scully would have said he even looked slightly bigger in the chest, but it was hard to tell with the brown trench coat he was wearing.

"So," Vincent said, taking a seat.  "What have we got?"

Mulder heaved a sigh.  "Not much.  We know where the house is and what it looks like from the outside, but that's it.  Good to see you again, Vinny."

"You, too, Spooky.   When are we leaving?"

Scully shook her head.  "I still think we should leave this for SWAT."

Vincent groaned.  "I really wish she hadn't said that," he told Mulder.

"I've already told you, Scully, you don't have to come.  But this is my brother we're talking about.  I can't trust the cops, or the Bureau, to do it right."  Moonshade smiled grimly.  "Besides, I owe Harrison big.  I like to take care of my own business."

"Like Carter?"

"Exactly.  Now, if you're done, let's get ready.  If you're not, I'll lock you in, so you can't interfere."

Scully glanced at Mulder, who shrugged.  "All right," she said.  "Let's go."

"Good.  Meet me at the car; there's something I have to pick up."

Mulder, Scully, and Vincent made their way to Moonshade's car.  A moment later, she joined them, carrying a thermos.

"What's in that?" Mulder asked.

"I'm betting they haven't fed Johnny.  So I brought a little snack."

"Oh?"  Realization dawned.  "Oh," he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

The drive to the house would have been a nice one under other circumstances, it was a clear night and a full moon, but no one was in a mood to sit for an hour in the car.  They were all relieved when Moonshade pulled up near the house.  The place was alone on the lot, only one story but long.  Moonshade and Vincent left the agents in the car while they went scouting.

"I don't like this," Scully told Mulder.  "It's a trap and we're walking right into it.  We should let SWAT take care of this."

"At least we know it's a trap. And, by the time we got a team together, Shade and Vinny would have already been here.  At least this way, they're not alone."

"You really think they would have come here without us?"

"Shade doesn't like leaving things for other people, if she can do them.  Especially when it comes to her brother.  They're each the only family the other has."

"Their parents are dead?"

"Yes.  So are any other family, cousins and such."

The front doors of the car opened and Moonshade and Vincent slid into the car.

"What did you find?"

"No windows—the ones you see are dummies—and there's only one entrance.  It's a nice little set-up."

"So what do we do?"

"I'm going in.  Anyone who wants to stay behind can."

Moonshade got out of the car.  Vincent and Mulder followed without a word.  Scully shook her head, but also followed.  They walked up the porch to the door, Moonshade leading the way.  She opened the door and turned to Vincent.

"Red…"

Scully pushed by Vincent to stand next to Moonshade.  "Let's go."

Moonshade nodded, frowning slightly, and the women stepped inside.

"This could get ugly," Vincent whispered, following Scully.

"Very easily," Mulder said.

Scully pulled out her flashlight and shined it in front of them.  The light showed them a passageway about twenty feet wide, stretching far in front of them.

"Stone," Scully said, looking at the walls.

Vincent knocked on a wall, eliciting a wooden thump.  "Wood, made to look like stone.  He went through a lot of trouble to fool us."

Moonshade growled.  "I don't like that."

They walked silently down the hall, Mulder and Scully with their guns out.  Moonshade left hers holstered and whether Vincent even had one, Scully wasn't sure.  He must have, though, she thought.  Otherwise, why would he be here?

Minutes later, they still hadn't reached the end of the hallway.  "Is this thing ever going to stop?" Mulder said.

"Soon," Moonshade said.  "I see a doorway."

Scully looked at the other woman. "Where?"

"Straight ahead."

In another few paces, the others could see it, too.  Now Moonshade pulled out one of her guns.  The four of them slowed, on their guard as they stepped into a four-way intersection.  Almost immediately, Moonshade let out a snarl.

"Jump!" she yelled, but it was too late.  The floor beneath them gave way, sending Scully and Vincent down one way, Mulder and Moonshade the other.

Vincent landed, then turned quickly.  Somehow, Scully had kept hold of her flashlight and he could see her.  He braced to break her fall as best he could, but her momentum knocked both of them down.

"Are you all right?" Scully asked, pulling herself to her feet.

"I'll be fine.  You?"

"I think so."

Scully passed the light around the area they were in.  There was a ten-foot wide hallway in front of them, walls to either side and behind, and a ceiling only six-and-a-half feet above them.  Vincent winced.

"God, I hope Shade's okay."

"Her claustrophobia."

"Yeah.  Narrow hall, low ceiling, underground, she could be in a bad way."  He shook his head.  "But we'll have to worry about ourselves, now."

"And Hawthorne," Scully said, taking a step forward.

"Wait," Vincent said, putting a hand on her shoulder.  "Harrison's built this house for the sole purpose of catching and/or killing Shade and he can't have known which way she'd fall.  If you think we're going to be able to just waltz through, grab Jay, and go, you're sorely mistaken."

"So what do we do?"

Vincent reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a marble.  "We use this."

"For what?"

"Listen carefully."

He crouched and rolled the marble down the middle of the hall.  Scully simply heard the sound of the marble, until it was out of sight.  Then the tone changed for just an instant.

"What was that?"

"A trigger.  We were supposed to step on it and set off some sort of trap.  Stay to the side of the hall and we should be fine."

Scully studied Vincent.  "Who are you?"

He smiled up at her.  "Someone who's watched too many adventure movies."

"Mmhm," she said thoughtfully.  "Let's go.  I may not be claustrophobic, but I don't like this place."

"Neither do I."

Mulder and Moonshade slid down the tunnel a good twenty feet, she figured.  She landed first, still on her feet.  An instant later, Mulder landed next to her.

"Shade?  Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," came the answer, her voice tight and strained.

Mulder reached out and touched her.

"No, you're not.  We're underground…"

"Don't remind me," she snapped, jerking away.  "Let's go."

He heard her take two steps, then there was a splash.  "Shade?" he yelled, finding and turning on his flashlight.

"I'm fine," she growled, hanging onto the edge of a pool of water.  "Nothing hurt but my pride.  I should have smelled that one a mile away."

He crouched and offered her a hand, trying not to laugh.  She took it and let him pull her out, then sat on the floor with her head bowed.  She stayed that way for a minute or two, breathing slowly, eyes closed.  Finally, she looked at him.

"I don't like this place, but Johnny needs me.  Let's go."

They stood and took a look around.  They were in another hallway about ten feet wide and six-and-a-half feet tall.  In front of them was a ten by fifteen foot pool, a two-foot wide walkway across the center.

"We've got to walk across that?"

"You can swim if you want, but I'm wet enough for one night."

Mulder put his gun away and followed slowly, struggling to keep his balance.  After he was across, Moonshade followed, almost running across.

"As nerve-wracking as that was, it wasn't very dangerous."

"No.  That was just a warning to throw me off."

"That's right, cats don't like water."

"Tigers do.  Let's go, but be careful."

Scully and Vincent walked down the hallway, each on one side of the hall, until they came to a ninety-degree turn to the right.  Vincent stopped near the corner and retrieved the marble, then rolled it down the new stretch of hallway.

"Another one," he said once the marble had stopped.  "Stay to the side, again."

They walked in silence, until Scully had a thought.  "What happens if there's a trigger by the wall, too?"

She heard a click as the floor under her foot sunk.  There was an echoing sound from across the hall, then a loud thud both in front of and behind them.  Scully's flashlight reflected off of a Plexiglas wall that closed off the hall in front of them.  A look behind them showed that way cut off as well.

Vincent joined Scully.  "Then we're in trouble."

"So I see.  Some trick."

Vincent shrugged.  "It's not perfect.  Never said it was."  He sniffed the air, then held out his hand.  "Let me see the light."

She handed it to him, and watched while he flashed it around the ceiling.  In the front two corners there was something that looked like a pipe.  They could see gas flowing out of the pipes, rolling down the Plexiglas and walls to the floor.

Vincent coughed.  "Chlorine.  He's trying to suffocate us."

Scully could smell the gas.  "What do we do?"

Vincent reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a small clump of gray putty.  "I don't think this'll kill us.  But, since we know the gas will…"

He reached up and put some of the putty in the openings of the pipes, then pulled out a pager and opened it up.  He took out two of the wires and stuck them into the putty, the pager still attached.

"Get back as far as you can and crouch down."

"Why?"

"Just do it.  Pull out your cell phone, while you're at it."

Scully dug out her cell phone, then pushed herself against the back wall and crouched down, covering her head with her arms.  Vincent joined her, shielding her with his body and coat, and now she understood why he looked bigger; he was wearing a flak jacket.

"Dial this number: 716-555-3342."

Scully dialed the number and the putty exploded, ripping the Plexiglas apart.  Once the debris settled they stood up, Scully looking at the ruined wall, then at Vincent.

"Where did you get that, and why were you carrying it?"

"You can't expect me to give up all my secrets, can you?"

"I guess not."  She looked again at the damage.  "Plastique.  Can I arrest _you_?" she asked dryly.

Vincent smiled.  "You could, but I have the feeling Shade would have something to say about it.  Let's go.  Time for more fun."

"You call that fun?  I'm starting to worry about you."

Vincent laughed.  "Only starting?"

"I'm going to take a look.  You wait here."

Mulder held out the flashlight.  "Take this."

Moonshade smiled.  "Thanks, but I'm fine."  She moved forward, disappearing into the darkness without a sound.

"Just like a cat," Mulder sighed.  He only had to wait a couple of minutes before she came back.

"The hallway takes a left not too far down.  There's a room, complete with a shut door."

"Your brother?"

"No.  There are two vampires in the room, though."

"How do we get by them?"

Moonshade pulled a clip out of an inside pocket in her duster.  "Put this one in your gun."

"I thought bullets couldn't hurt vampires."

"Not normally, but, I have these specially made.  They're lead-cored wooden bullets."

"Clever."

"Thanks.  Not my idea, though."

"Do I even want to now whose it was?"

Moonshade just smiled and refused to answer, watching Mulder switch clips.  She led the way down the short stretch of hallway, stopping at the doorway.  They drew their guns, counted to three, and opened the door.

Two men stood inside.  Mulder gasped; these two weren't hiding their nature like Stefan did.  They stood in the dimly lit room, mouths open in snarls, long gangs glinting in the dim light.  As soon as the door was open, they stepped forward, eyes blazing red, intent clear.

Mulder raised his gun, but was on the floor, flat on his back before he could fire.  He looked up at Moonshade, standing over him, wanting to ask her why.  She was in the room before he could, though.  It only lasted a couple of seconds; each of the vampires reached out for Moonshade, but she dodged them both, lashing out with her hands.  Mulder thought that vampires shouldn't bleed so much, even with their throats sliced open.  Another slash at each one ripped their heads from their bodies and the vampires turned to dust.

Moonshade wiped her hands off on her trench coat, then came to the doorway and held out her hand to Mulder.

"What was that for?"

"The room's full of methane.  Shoot into that and both us and the vampires are toast."

Mulder shook his head.  "How did you know?"

"I smelled it."  She led the way to the door opposite them.

"Do you think there are any more traps?"

Moonshade shrugged.  "I have no idea.  This is a lot more subtle than I gave Harrison credit for; usually he just throws guns at a problem."  She frowned.  "I wonder if he had any help.  Maybe it's time to cull the Syndicate."

Mulder looked at her.  "Harrison's dead, isn't he?"

She smiled grimly.  "Oh, yes.  This time, though, I'm going to make sure it's for good."

"I'll go first," Vincent told Scully.

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

He just smiled and moved down the hallway, was about ten feet away when a blade swung up from the floor.  He tumbled forward, pulling himself into a tight roll, somersaulting under a second blade that swung out of the wall at shoulder height.  Once on the other side he stood and hit a switch, stopping the blades in mid-swing.  Scully joined him.

"Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade," he said.  "Harrison's been watching too many movies."

"But weren't the blades reversed in the movie?"

"Sure.  Shade jumps the first and is in the air for the second.  Not even she can survive a beheading."

"Harrison really means business."

"So it would appear."

"Then why don't you seem worried?"

"We just saw the movie a couple of weeks ago.  If I figured it out, then so can she."

"Hmm.  Somehow, I can't see the two of you sitting around watching movies together."

"It's a long story."

Moonshade and Mulder looked down the hallway.  He flashed the light on the walls, ceiling, and floor, but didn't see anything.

"Let me go first," Moonshade said.

"Just be careful."

She smiled.  "Always."

She was about ten feet away, when the blade swung up from the floor.  She jumped forward but kept her body low as a second blade swung out from the wall at shoulder height.  She landed on her hands, then pulled her legs in tight and rolled.

"You all right?" Mulder yelled.

Moonshade rolled to her feet and stood.  "Fine, thanks."  She hit a switch on the wall and the blades stopped.  "All right, it's safe."

"Mulder stepped over and under the blades and was through.  "Seems like I saw this in a movie, once."

"Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  But the blades were reversed."

Mulder looked back at the blades.  "Harrison expected you to jump over the first one and get hit by the second."

"Exactly.  Good thing I just saw it, otherwise it may have worked.  Let's go."

Vincent and Scully stopped.  On the floor in front of them were lettered tiles.

"It's not going to be Jesus, is it?"

"Not likely."

"What else would it be?"

Vincent studied the tiles for a moment.  "If I make if, follow me."

He led the way, Scully following.  Once they were across, Scully looked back.

"Vincent, it can't be.  Can it?"

"It sure would explain a lot."

Mulder and Moonshade stopped at the edge of the lettered tiles.  "I know this one," Mulder said, and stepped on the tile marked "i".

"Fox!" Moonshade yelled, grabbing his arm and pulling him back as his foot went through the tile.  "He's changed things from the movie, remember?"

"So what is it?"

She cocked her head and studied the floor, then nodded.  "Follow me."

She led the way across, Mulder following.  After the first four, he understood.  On the other side, he studied her intently.

"Shade, you're not…I mean…"

"No.  Not yet, anyhow, though I'm the closest thing you're likely to meet.  C'mon.  One more, then we can get Johnny."

Mulder frowned.  "How do you know?"

"Because, in this exercise, he's the Holy Grail."

Scully shined the light into the chasm that interrupted the hall in front of them.  "Harrison spared no expense.  How do we find the bridge?"

Vincent heaved a sigh.  "If Shade were here, she'd be able to see it.  But, since she's not, I have no idea."

Scully looked at the chasm, then at Vincent.  "Hold this."

He looked at her, frowning.  "What?"

"My flashlight.  Hold it for a minute."

He took the flashlight, watched as she took off her trench coat.  Scully took the jacket by the collar, gripping it tight, then held it low and over the edge by the right wall.  She walked along until she felt it hit something near the left wall.

"It's low-tech, but effective," she said, draping the coat over the bridge.

Vincent shook his head.  "Well.  The Bureau did teach you something, after all."

"What did it teach you?"

"Not enough."

They painstakingly made their way across.  Once on the other side, they stopped to rest.

Mulder shined his light into the chasm.  It didn't touch the bottom.

"How deep is this thing?"

"Very.  Even I can't see the bottom."

"So how do we find the bridge?"

"You can't see it?"

"No.  Why?"

Moonshade grinned.  "Because Harrison and I got into a long discussion about it.  I told him it would work with the right lighting—which is to say next to none—but he didn't believe me."

"Harrison?  As in Clayton?"

"No, Harrison as in Ford.  It was at his place I saw Last Crusade."

"You know Harrison Ford?"

"Mmhm.  I get hired by a lot of rich and famous, seeing as how I'm so discreet."

"Oh.  So, how do we find the bridge?"

"One of my talents.  Optical illusions don't work on me."  She jumped off the ledge and landed three feet down.  "Same routine as the tiles.  Step where I step."

"All right.  Let's go."

What seemed like hours passed before Moonshade was helping him up to the other side, but he somehow made it without looking down.  Once on visible ground, he fell to his knees.

"That took forever."

"Half a minute is all."  Moonshade pulled out a cigarette and lit it.  "Relax a mo.  Give me a chance to smoke."

Mulder wrinkled his nose at the odd smell.  "What is it you pack in those things, anyhow?"

She regarded him intently.  "Figure that out and you'll probably be able to guess my secret."

"I hope we find Hawthorne soon.  This is getting tedious."

"I'm willing to bet he's next."

They continued on, turned the corner, and stopped.  In front of them was a door, clearly visible in the light from the flash.

"Let's go," Vincent said.  They stepped forward and opened the door.

Mulder looked at the door.  "Well?"

Moonshade drew her guns.  "Be a gentleman and open the door for a lady, will you?  My hands are full."

Mulder opened the door and Moonshade went in, guns at shoulder height.

"Shade, it's us!" Vincent yelled.

She was already lowering her guns.  "Relax, willya, Red?  I'd know you in the dark."  She holstered the guns.  "Hail, hail, the gang's all here.  Any trouble?"

"None to speak of.  You?"

"Even less."

They were in a small room with one door aside from the two they'd come through.

"Fuck it; I'm done pussyfooting it," Moonshade growled.  "Let's go."

She opened the door and they were assaulted with bright, white light.  The others threw their hands in front of their eyes, but Moonshade dropped to her knees with a yowl of pain.

"I'm not alone," a weak but audible voice called from inside the lit room.

"Hawthorne?" Mulder called.  "Who's there with you?"

"Pit viper, I think, but it's fifty feet if it's an inch and hungry; it hasn't been fed that I've seen."

The lights—halogen, Scully figured—turned off.  Vincent put a hand on her shoulder.  "Can you shoot the lights out?"

Scully saw 12 bulbs.  "Yes, but we can use those."

"They're weakening Jay even more than he already is and are hurting Shade."

Scully looked down.  The girl was curled up in a ball, in obvious distress.  Scully drew her gun and took out the bulbs on thirteen shots.

Then she saw the snake.  Its head was arrow shaped and its size was everything Jay had said.

"I didn't think pit vipers got that big," Mulder said.

"They don't.  Not naturally, at least.  Shade, we've got company."

"Still hurtin'.  One of your toys."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Vincent muttered, pulling out a playing card.  "Jay, look out, fire in the hole," he called, then threw the card.  It hit the snake with a small explosion that only served to infuriate the beast.  "Its skin's too tough, Shade.  My cards aren't working on it."

Moonshade stood, a dagger in one hand.  "Never send a da'hu to do a fe's job," she growled, then was in the room.

The snake reared back and struck, but Moonshade had already dodged.  She lashed out with her dagger at the snake's over-extended neck.  The blade drove into the animal's spine and bit deep into the stone. Paralyzed, the thing could only hiss as she leisurely pulled out the dagger and cut off its head.

"I hate snakes," she snarled, cleaning off her dagger.  A flick of the wrist and it was gone.  Then so was she, to help her brother to his feet.  He stood, but shakily.

"You all right, Kiddo?"

"Weak.  Tired.  Starving."

"Yeah.  'Bout that."  She pulled out the thermos and handed it to him.

He opened it and drank greedily.  Almost instantly, he looked better, even younger.  Scully gasped.

"What was in that?"  She took the thermos and sniffed.  "Blood?  And why didn't the snake go after you?"

"It was a pit viper.  They find their prey by heat."

"I repeat…"

Jay took Scully's hand.  Her eyes widened and she reached up to touch his face.

"You're cold."

"As cold as the wood.  The snake literally never saw me."

"Can we please finish this biology slash folklore lesson later?" Moonshade asked.

"Yeah.  I'd like to get out of here.  The door's here, but I don't know how to open it from this side.

It only took Moonshade a moment to find the trigger and open the door onto stairs going up.  She sniffed.

"Fresh air.  Faint, but close.  Red, go first with Fox.  Scully, can you help Johnny?  Thanks.  I'll go last."

They trooped up the stairs to find themselves in a hallway that stretched both right and left.

"There's a breeze from the left," Vincent told them.

They turned and had gone a few feet, when Moonshade spun around.

"You're not leaving yet, are you?" Clayton Harrison asked.

The others turned then.  Jay stepped forward with a snarl, his incisors long and sharp. Moonshade held up a hand.

"He's mine, Johnny.  This ends now, Clay."  She looked at the gun in his hand, shook her head with a tsking sound.  "And here I had such hope for you.  Those traps showed subtlety, ingenuity, even intelligence.  They were borrowed, weren't they?"

"I took them from Prideful Man.  He was dead; I didn't think he'd mind."

Vincent snorted.  "'Prideful man,' 'Well-Manicured Man,' 'Cigarette-Smoking Man.'  Can't you come up with something more creative?"

Harrison shrugged.  "They serve their purpose."

"What do they call you?" Mulder asked, moving to the front.

"I'm Dead Man."

Moonshade laughed.  "Oh, how right you are.  One way or another, you're going to die here."

Harrison smiled, his incisors as long and sharp as Jay's.  "Really?  You haven't drawn your gun, your brother and friend don't carry them, and I know the FBI doesn't have anything that can hurt me."

Mulder took another step towards Harrison and drew his gun, but Moonshade put her arm in front of him.

"No, Fox.  This doesn't involve you."

Harrison's eyes widened.  "It does now," he said, and turned the gun on Mulder.

"No!" Moonshade yelled, stepping in between Mulder and the bullet.  It hit her in the chest and she slumped against Mulder.  He caught her with one arm and fired his gun.

Harrison laughed, until the lead cored lignum vitae bullet ripped through his heart.  The shock just had time to register on his face, before his body crumbled to dust and drifted away in the breeze.

Mulder dropped his gun and laid Moonshade to the ground, took off his jacket, and pressed it against her wound.  Scully checked her pulse.  Johnny knelt next to his sister.

"Sel?  Will you…"

She closed her eyes, smiled at her brother.  "I'll be fine. Red, get him outside.  Explain…"  She broke off in a coughing fit.

"Yeah."  Vincent took Jay's arm and led him down the hall.

"You're a terrible liar," Mulder said.

Moonshade's eyes flew open, burning with rage.  "I don't lie," she rasped.  "I may dissemble, inveigle, and obfuscate, but I do _not_ lie."  She coughed again, spraying blood.  "Oh, that is so not good."

"It means you're dying," Scully said, pulling out her cell phone.

Moonshade put a hand over the phone.  "It means I'm already dead.  There's nothing you—or anyone—can do for me."

"We have to…"

"Please.  Leave me here.  Just tell Stefan where I am and what happened."

Scully took Moonshade's hand.  "Lor…Moonshade, you can't expect me to…"

"Everything dies, me included.  Please, Scully, just this once."

Scully met Moonshade's eyes.  There was no judgment, no superiority, just a girl who wanted to die as she had lived; on her own terms.  Scully finally nodded.

"Thank you," Moonshade whispered.  "Give us a minute?"

Scully nodded and left.  Mulder shifted, putting Moonshade's head in his lap.  By now, his jacket was soaked with her blood.

"I was born Selena Hewson, in Jamestown, NY, 1944 and in almost sixty years, I've never taken a bullet for anyone…"  She broke off coughing.

"Shade, I…"

She put a hand to his lips.  He caught it in his own and kissed it.

She brushed away a tear with her finger, leaving a streak of blood.  "Wait until we meet again.  If you still feel that way, tell me then."  She sighed.  "Not much time left.  Someone once told you that not everything dies?"

"Yeah."

"They lied.  Everything dies.  But, not everything stays dead.  I'll always keep an eye on you, Fox."

Mulder started to say something, to tell her anyway, but her hand went limp in his and her pulse faded to nothing.


	8. Epilogue

HOLIDAY INN, DENVER, CO

THURSDAY, 9:00 A.M.

Mulder put the last shirt in his suitcase and was about to zip it up, when there was a knock on the door.  He expected Scully, was surprised to find Vincent.  Mulder smiled weakly.

"Vinny, come on in."

"Thanks, Spooky."  Vincent shook his head as he came in.  "You sure have earned that nickname, haven't you?"

Mulder shut the door.  "Hmph.  So.  How deep are you into this?"

"What?  The Game?"  Vincent shrugged.  "I know what I've learned helping Shade, which isn't much.  Other than that…"  He sighed.  "It's too complicated, I don't want to know.  Look, Mulder, I'm sorry.  I know how much she meant to you."

"What about you?  Do…did you love her?"

Vincent smiled wryly.  "Does it really matter?" he said quietly.  "Look, I've got to go; I have things I need to do before Bobby and I head back East.  If you're ever in the area and need anything, give me a ring."

Mulder took the hand Vincent offered him and smiled.  "You call me if you need anything.  Like info, help with the law…"

Vincent stood dumbfounded, then laughed.  "I'll be damned, you do have me pegged.  Take care, Mulder."  Vincent turned and opened the door, looking over his shoulder.  "You know, cats do have nine lives," he said, then was gone.


End file.
